You Know Me, But You Don't
by sdr.lives.on
Summary: Clary Fray lives in the slums of New York. Her mother doesn't care about her and nobody else does either. Except for her friends Jace, Izzy and Alec. She has been talking to them on the phone every night for years, and they know everything about her. But at the same time, they don't. Rated T for drug references and possibly sensitive material. Slightly OOC/AU All human.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! I just got this idea today, so I jumped on it and tried to express my ideas as best as I could. I don't know if this story is any good, so reviews would be great! Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments characters and anything else that relates to that belong not to me, but to its rightful owner Cassandra Clare.**

The first thing I register when I wake up is the smell of weed. I can't fathom why people would enjoy it when I think it smells like skunk. I'm used to it though, Mom has been smoking it ever since my dad left right after I was born. _Oh well, _I think bitterly. _I'm not the one with the problem._

I sit up and shake my head to clear the drowsy haze it has been submersed in. I get out of bed and stand up and shuffle a few feet over to my dresser. That's one of the good things about my room; it's so tiny that I barely have to even move to get from place to place. My twin bed is shoved in the back left corner and my dresser is on the wall on the right. To the right of my bed is the only window in my room which is currently fogged up from the cold. I walk over to it and wipe my hand along the glass, and stare out of the clear circle I created. I love this window; not because of the view, as it faces the apartment building only about nine feet from the one I live in, like almost every building in New York. I love it because of the fire escape it leads to. It isn't just an escape from fire. It is my escape from _everything_. I go out there whenever I need to clear my mind or get some space, which is about every night.

I turn away and look over the rest of my room. I stare at the water stains on the ceiling and the chipped paint in the corners that I have memorized. There isn't much else, just a few posters on the wall and a tiny flimsy nightstand next to the door with a lamp on it. We can't afford anything else.

I open the dresser drawer and peek inside to decide what I am going to wear. Almost all of my clothing is black, so naturally the people at school think I'm emo or depressed and leave me alone. I don't necessarily have a problem with that, I like sticking to myself. I pull out a pair of short black denim shorts with the front pockets showing below the hem. I pull on a tight fitting black tank top and then a looser one. I sigh, wishing I didn't have to leave my room and face my mother's scolding, but then I remember I would be a coward by cowering from my own mother.

I crack open the door and look out. Mom is sitting on the stained, worn couch in the living room while smoking a joint. I sigh again and and open the door fully. I attempt to cross the hallway and make it to the bathroom without her noticing me, but as expected, no such luck.

"Black again? If I didn't know any better I would think you were about to rob a bank or something," she says in her nasal, heavy New Jersey accent. She moved to New York when she met my father, but now I think she regrets it.

"Jocelyn," I say with fake awe, "I think this is a new record. High at," I pretend to look at the non-existent watch on my wrist, "eight in the morning. You have my utmost respect."

"Don't pull a high and mighty on me Clarissa! I'm not high," she says as if it's a feat.

"Not yet at least," I mumble.

"What was that?" she asks.

"I was just saying how proud of you I am," I say sarcastically.

She squints her eyes. I notice they are pink around the rims. Processing this, I estimate she will be in the clouds in maybe a few minutes, _tops_.

"Get out of my sight before I decide to disown you," she spits at me.

Ouch. Even after all these years of taking her insults and jabs at me, that one gets me every time. _No, _I tell myself. _It doesn't matter that she doesn't love me. She never has and she never will._ Besides, I wouldn't have to put up with my witch of a mother if I _did_ get disowned. I actually smile at the thought.

My smile changes to a smirk as I look at her and waggle my fingers as a goodbye. I turn and walk into the bathroom and slam the door. I look into the mirror and examine my reflection. I don't see beautiful. I don't see stunning. I see a pale freckled girl with flames for hair. I see sadness and desperation and longing for something to happen, for something to change me. _Would Jace like this?_ No, I don't care what Jace would think.

I apply some jet black eyeliner and mascara and open the door. I dart across the hallway and into my room. I pick up the black high top converse and slip them on. _I really need some new shoes_ I think as I see the gray scuff marks and the threadbare shoelaces. On my right shoe I wrap the laces around the ankle and tie them when they get back to the front. It is my good luck charm. Jace says it's _just adorable_. I smile as I remember him telling me how cute it was. I also remember how angry I became when he said adorable. I shake my head to try and dispel the thought, but Jace lingers in my mind.

In first grade everyone in our grade was assigned another child across the city to write a Christmas letter to. I was assigned Jace, and ever since then we have been continuing the process. In third grade he gave me his phone number, but I didn't return the favor. We don't have a phone. I work at the mini grocery store on the corner of the street my school is on, so after school I walk over there and work until dark. After my shift is over I go to the back room with the phone and call him. I must stay there, sitting on the crates of oranges for _at least _two hours, just talking about _everything_. The first time I talked to him I knew he would be the greatest friend I would ever have. Maybe the only friend I would ever have.

I also got to know his three siblings well too; I talked with Izzy, the bold and beautiful sister, Alec, the low-key voice of reason within the kids, and Max, the boisterous and innocent one. I haven't seen what any of them look like, but I can guess. I bet Izzy is gorgeous. I can tell by the way she talks with such confidence and fierceness. Alec doesn't like to be the center of attention, so I venture to guess he blends in and dresses like most people our age. I can picture Max clear as day; small and scrawny, but in a childish way.

And Jace.

Jace is beautiful. Not just attractive, but beautiful. He is like Izzy, but in a cockier way. I can only imagine how many girls he has fawning over him every day. When I talk to him he is overly confident, but it works on him. I know there is more to him though. I know how great he is by the many nights we spent talking about our day and everything and everybody that pissed us off, made us laugh, made us cry. He is the one person I can count on no matter what. If I didn't have him I don't know what I would be today.

I feel like they are my own brothers and sister. They tell me everything. I tell them everything.

But I don't tell them that I am an outcast.

And I don't tell them that I am poor.

And I don't tell them that my mother is a stoner.

But I don't need to, because just the fact that we are there for each other lifts a weight off of my shoulders.

I snap out of my daze and grab my leather jacket and backpack as I burst through the door. Mom yells something at me, but I couldn't distinguish what because her words cracked and stuttered. I just continued on my way and out the door, bracing myself for another day in my hell away from home.

**Thank you to any of you who read this story! Like I said in my earlier note, I don't know how good this story is so reviews are appreciated greatly. They help me out more than you can imagine!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi everyone! Thank you to those who read the first chapter and favorited and/or reviewed and/or followed. It means a lot to me and encourages me as a writer. I am updating faster than I will usually when I get further into this story. In case you wanted to know, I think my updating schedule will be once a week, not a specific day, just once a week. It might be shorter, it might be longer. It really depends on what is going on in my life. I will let you know when you should expect the updates if something happens that will affect the update schedule. Thanks again and read on!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Cassandra Clare. Which means...I don't own the Mortal Instruments! I know, I almost had you fooled.**

I walk down the hallway to the door that leads to the flight of stairs. As soon as I open it a gust of warm, musty air hits me. It's better than the stale air in the apartment.

I take the stairs two at a time and glide down until I reach the lobby. _I _wouldn't classify it as a lobby, necessarily, but Luke, the man behind the scenes here, claims it gives the building a classy feel. As if. That's Luke for you, trying to make everything seem better but never really doing anything to actually make it better. I would estimate he is around fifty years old, but whenever that topic appears he responds with the same old "age is but a number" and a wink. I can tell he has had a happy life. You can see it on his face; the crinkles around his eyes portray he has laughed a lot, and the lines outlining his mouth show he has smiled frequently. I admire the fact that he can see the good in the world, even with being stuck with a dump like this.

Luke has always been like a father to me- more like a father _and _a mother, since I wouldn't really count mine. He knows the situation with my mom, and I know he is concerned about me. It feels good, having someone (who is actually present) care about you, but at the same time I don't like it. It makes me feel small, weak. It makes me feel like I need someone to care about me, and maybe I do- but I can't let anyone know that.

I've spent my entire life building a wall around myself, making sure no one knows what goes on inside that wall. Not even Jace and the rest of the Lightwoods know everything. I'm not sure I want them to. I can handle the stares. I can handle the disgusted looks people give me when they find out where I live. One thing I _can't_ handle is pity. That's why I make sure I'm tough and the real me is protected. If I don't look like I need pity then people won't offer it.

As I pass the front desk Luke sees me and smiles.

"Hey Clary, what are you doing up so early?" he asks.

For a moment I am confused. This is the normal time I leave for school in the morning. Then I remember testing is today and I don't have to be there until 10. I mutter a curse under my breath then look up. Luke looks amused.

"Don't laugh at me old man! I needed to get to the shop early to...set up some aisles. By the way, should I be appreciative or find it creepy that you know my schedule better than I do?" I am the one amused now.

Luke smiles. "I knew you would forget so when you told me about it last week I wrote it down on my calendar," he says while gesturing to the pad of paper on his desk.

"Well, thanks," I smile at him. He is one of the only people I smile genuinely to. If the Lightwoods were here I bet I would smile at them all the time. If they were here I wouldn't be so lonely. _If, if, if._ "I have to go, see you around nine."

"Wait!" he says loudly when I reach the front door. "You forgot your board out here yesterday when you were talking to me." I was about to ask which time I talked to him, but then I remember the only time we have a real conversation is when I come home from work. He is like my replacement parents. He asks me all those cliche questions; how was your day? Did you do well on that math test? Anything special happen? Those are the times where I feel like I belong in this prison I call a home.

He pulls my skateboard out from under his desk and hands it to me over the mountains of papers he has yet to organize.

"Thanks."

"No problem kid, good luck at testing today. I'm sure you'll do great," he says encouragingly.

I smile a little and nod before turning and walking out the door. The air is muggy and I decide that I don't need my jacket. I stuff it in my backpack, zip it up, and throw it over my shoulder. I drop my board and step on it, pushing it with my foot to get it started. I look around, and as usual, there are no people walking the sidewalks or roaming the alleys. My neighborhood is basically deserted until night; that's when everyone comes out. To do what exactly, I can imagine.

I skate down the street and make a right into an alley, heading towards Harrison's Mini-Mart. I work there four hours every day during school days, eight hours a day on weekends. It pays the bills, so it's what I do. Besides, Mr. Harrison is a pretty good boss. He lets me use his phone, take bathroom breaks whenever I want, and I can come in whenever I have time and he will pay me for it. Sure, it's just above minimum wage, but I don't care; money is money.

I turn right again, burrowing myself deeper into the web of back alleys and forgotten parking lots. I continue down until I come to the old Roberts Shoe Corporation. It's small, but it sure is beautiful. It has big white pillars coming down the front, slightly tinted gray by the soot and dirt. The marble sign reads the name of the office. It is abandoned, but I bet if someone fixed it up it would look amazing. I rub my middle and index fingers against my thumb. It's a habit I attained when I discovered my love of drawing. Whenever I ache to sketch something I rub my fingers together. Another thing Jace would probably find adorable.

I turn left and find myself behind Harrison's shop. I step off my board and bend down to grab it. I walk to the door which is decorated with an aluminum sign. "DO NOT ENTER. NO ONE ALLOWED THROUGH THIS DOOR." I ignore it as usual and push open the heavy door. Setting down my back pack and leaning my skateboard against the wall I make my way behind the counter. I don't actually need to work because the store opens up at nine, but I would rather be here than home.

"Mr. Harrison I'm here!" I shout. I know he will hear me, he is always here. He lives above the store in a studio apartment. He could afford a bit better, but he can't get his frail frame very far. This setup works best.

I hear his shuffling and scurrying through the aisles. There are only about three, making the store the size of an average gas station. The shelves are about six feet tall, so his 5'4'' body gets lost frequently.

"Clary, I need you to sweep. Do you think you could do that? Could you do that?" he asks.

Another thing noticeable about Mr. Harrison is his anxiousness. He always seems tentative and slightly panicked when he talks. It makes me wonder what happened in his life that made him look over his shoulder. It also makes me wonder if that is what I will end up like.

"Of course Mr. Harrison. Is there anything else I can do for you?" I aks.

"No, no. That won't be necessary," he says with his high pitched voice. He scratches his nearly bald head and looks around, looking confused and muttering to himself. He walks away to probably go upstairs and find something else to fret over.

I chuckle to myself and head over to the corner behind the counter to retrieve the broom. I move from aisle to aisle, sweeping the already unsoiled floors. I bend down to brush the tiny mountain of dirt and other things into the dust pan. I stand up and cross the room and throw away the contents. Surveying the room to see if I have to do anything else, I decide there isn't anything to complete so I head off to the back room to do my favorite thing; talk to Jace.

I walk over to the crates of oranges and stack two on top of each other. Picking up the phone that is on top of a few empty boxes, I plop down on the top crate and dial the number I have grown to memorize. After a few dial tones I hear his voice.

"Couldn't go more than 24 hours without hearing my voice Sugar?' he asks with a smirk I can basically hear through the phone.

And just like that half of my excitement walks out the door. More like runs.

"For the sake of your health and emotional well-being I am going to ignore your name calling," I growl.

"Well _Cuddle Bug_, I applaud your efforts. It makes me feel special that you care about my well-being." he says.

"I don't. I just wouldn't want to get sent to juvie for mauling you to death," I say easily.

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong. It isn't possible for you to physically maul me through a phone. And I thought you were smart, Clary," he says with mock disappointment.

"That's it. I'm hanging up." I don't mean it, I would never bail on a conversation wth Jace, but I know he believes me and he always rushes to make me stay on the line.

"No! No Clary, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." I can still tell he is supressing laughter, but I decide to let it go.

"How is moving going?" Jace and Izzy called me a week ago saying they were moving to a new neighborhood in New York, but they wouldn't tell me where. We made a pact four years ago agreeing to wait to meet until we were 18, so I have no idea where they are or where they are going.

"Oh yeah, I should probably get on that." I hear a zipper closing up what most likely is his suitcase and some thumping and shuffling noises in the background. A few seconds later I hear his voice, but he is not talking to me. "Izzy, is it really necessary that your shoes get their own bag?"

"Actually there's more than one bag. There is still one more that you need to bring down from my room," I hear Izzy's faint voice ordering Jace.

"There is _no way_ I am willing to cripple this body for your shoes." I imagine Jace gesturing up and down his body while saying this.

I barely hear Izzy scoff before her heels' clacking signals her departure. "So I take it it's going well?"

Jace laughs, and the sound sends a wave of pleasure through me. I silently scold myself for reacting this way to something as simple as a _laugh_. "I guess. Without Izzy's OCD things would be moving a lot faster."

I laugh and ask, "When do you think you will get to your house?"

"Probably an hour, we only have five more boxes to load into the truck. Then we're off. Mayrse is making us go to school today since there is testing. _She_ says it will be a good opportunity to 'observe our new surroundings and start getting aqquainted with the student body,' but _I'd_ say this is a good opportunity for girls to start getting aqquainted with _my _student body."

I shake my head and then realize stupidly that he can't see me. "Jace, I know this might break your heart to find out, but not everything revolves around your body."

"Of course I know that. My charm is part of the package."

I sigh, knowing that it probably _is _part of the package, but I won't tell him that.

I hear a few noises in the background and some muffled talking between Jace and what sounds like an older man.

"Listen," Jace's voice reappears. "The truck driver says we are moving ahead of schedule, so I gotta go. Can you call me later? I could ask Izzy and Alec to talk too."

"Don't forget about Max. He is my favorite one out of you guys," I joke. "Of course I can. Good luck with the move and school and everything. Until next time," I sign off.

"Until next time," he echoes.

I hang up and immediately miss his voice. I sigh, wishing for these emotions to go away but not really wanting them to. I look at the old clock on the wall. 8:37. I get up and re-enter the store section. I look around, making up things to do just to pass time. I wipe off the counter and I check over the stock, taking inventory. I sweep, _again_, and do other little things that aren't necessary. I look at the clock again. 8:56. _Might as well leave. There is nothing left for me to do_.

"Mr. Harrison! I'm leaving!" I shout.

"Did you sweep?" he appears from the stairs as quickly and quietly as a ghost.

"That along with many other things," I reply.

"Oh, okay. Well, I guess you can go. Have a nice day Clary," he says quietly.

"You too Mr. Harrison." I turn and head toward the back door. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and pick up my board. I pull open the door and step out into the alley. I stumble, blinded momentarily by the light. Setting my board down and stepping onto it, I take off in the direction of the school.

I travel aimlessly through deserted alleyways and overgrown lots. It is around 9:30 when I decide to actually go to school. Soon enough, when I am about three blocks away from school I see Julian.

Julian lives in my neighborhood, but his life is a lot different. His parents aren't necessarily smart, but they are kind and good-hearted people. They have four children, the oldest of which being Julian, who is 11. They do whatever is best for their children and work hard to make things happen. Julian is a happy go lucky kid with no cares in the world, which is the way it should be. He has dark brown, almost black hair is shoulder length and shaggy. He sports a toothy smile with deep dimples and wide, dark eyes on his dark tan complexion.

"Hey Clary!" Julian says.

"Hey Jule, how's my favorite 5th grader?" I ask while slowing down my board to match his pace.

"I'm the _only _5th grader you know!" he counters with an eye roll. "But I'm good, mad that the weekend's over, but good."

"I know how you feel. Except high school is ten times worse," I groan.

"Clary, you're the toughest girl I know. You can handle them," he says with complete certainty. I wasn't talking about the people at my school, but now I find myself thinking about all they bring as well. I also wonder how my loneliness has just now caught up to me. I feel eyes bore into me when Julian says my name, but I ignore it. I am probably just paranoid about people after what Julian said.

I continue to skate down the sidewalk but the feeling lingers. Finally, I look behind me and see a boy, about my age looking at me from afar. More like gaping. As I notice his other features, it takes all I have to not look him over properly. From what I can see, he is handsome. Actually, that would be an understatement. He has light golden skin, and his long-ish hair matches it. I see how messy it is, and the way it curls slightly at the base of his neck. I can also make out the defined muscles that show from beneath his white t-shirt. He has sculpted angular cheekbones and unique eyes.

_His eyes._ They are golden too, and one of the most captivating things I will ever see. They also hold a different feel, like they have been through so much. They look weathered, old, experienced. Like he has lived a thousand years and seen it all. But on the outside they come across as cold and closed off. Just like mine.

I feel my fingers rubbing together, and I realize that _I _am the one staring. I tear my eyes away from his and see his expression. He is still staring at me. It makes me feel self- conscious and embarrassed. I am about to look away, but right before I do I see a girl speak to the boy. _Probably his girlfriend._ I feel my heart sink at the thought for some reason. She is gorgeous enough to be his girlfriend. She is tall and slender, but she holds curves that make her look sophisticated yet feminine at the same time. Her jet black hair flows down her shoulders and back like a waterfall. Her eyes are peculiar too. They resemble blue ice, cold and hard but able to be melted.

When the boy doesn't respond she irritably taps on his shoulder. Still, his eyes remain on me. She follows his gaze. She sees me and furrows her brows and cocks her head to the side. She looks back at the boy and attempts to speak, but he doesn't pay any attention.

She calls to another boy, probably her brother. They both have similiar features, but his are more muted. She says something to him and makes a wild, over-exaggerated hand gesture pointing to the golden boy, and her brother lays a hand on his shoulder and shakes a little. This seems to finally snap him out of his daze. I feel a sense of relief, but also of disappointment. I can't understand why.

I look away and try to get the image of the mysterious boy out of my head. The school comes into view and a sense of dread overcomes me and I forget all about what happened just a minute before. I say goodbye to Julian and hop the curb and glide across the street. A few moments later I find myself in front of the grand doors leading to the interior of the school. I take a few deep breaths, and force my legs to move me into the school.

Here we go.

**I know I said I was going to write about school in this one, and I sort of did, but I got lost in explaining characters and such. I think it was worth it though, because I want you guys to know who the characters are before I get too deep into this story. Anyways, can anyone guess who the mysterious gazing stranger was in this chapter? I bet not (she says with sarcasm). I hope you guys enjoyed! Review please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hola! Okay, so a majority - well, **_**way**_** more than a majority- of those of you that reviewed requested Jace's POV. I think that was a good call, but I also got a few reviews that shed some light on things I didn't know you were thinking before. Some people said they liked the background building I was doing with Clary's home life, so I will try to focus on that and the relationships between characters. I will try to focus on that and the situation with the Lightwoods, but believe me when I tell you this will not be a cliche love at first sight story. **

**So, as requested, this is a short section in Jace's POV. I don't think I will do this often because I am trying to focus, like I said earlier, on Clary's home life and relationships. Well, read on! Oh, and review too. I like those. **_**A lot.**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jace (sadly) or any other characters or references involving the Mortal Instruments series. They belong to Cassandra Clare.**

"Jace! Slow down! We're almost there!" Izzy shrieks at me. "Besides, I've never seen you anxious to get to school before," she mutters the last part.

"Iz, chill. It's not like actually getting to school on time would break your heel or something," I say with an eye roll.

Izzy huffs, but hurries all the same. We are approaching our new school; Wilson Moore High School. New location, new problems, new _girls_. I remember telling Clary this morning that I would let the girls at this school get acquainted with my student body, but I feel guilty about that now. I feel guilty after every girl I use. They only act as a consolation for what I don't have, but I don't know what that is yet. Each girl satisfies me for a while, but then that empty feeling creeps in. Clary gets it. I think that is what she feels also, and that is why we understand each other better than anyone else. Before my thoughts of Clary take me to places that are hard to get out of, I ask Izzy, "Where is Alec?"

"Behind us. We were kind of left in the dust when you decided that school was like a mirror and you couldn't stay away," she says sullenly.

"Is it me that can't stay away from the mirror, or the mirror that can't stay away from me?" I say with a smirk.

Izzy scoffs and we continue on in silence. I stare at my feet as we walk, and the clicking of Izzy's heels hitting the ground set a rythym. I see a flash of red in the midst of all the gray and black and look up out of curiosity. There is a small girl, maybe 5'2", riding on a skateboard. She is in all black, which contrasts with her fiery red hair. She looks bold, tough, and for some reason I am dying to see her face. There is a boy next to her, maybe 10 years old. He has a tan complexion with dark hair. Subconsciously I listen in on their conversation.

"Clary, you're the toughest girl I know. You can handle them," the boy says.

My eyes shift to her as I hear the name. Clary. _Clary._ No, it can't be her. It can't be. But I _want _it to be. The girl, Clary, is silent. I desperately want to hear her voice, just for confirmation. I keep my eyes trained on the back of her head, silently willing for her to turn around. Finally, she does.

She has a porcelain face with delicate features, but she still looks strong. Like she is determined to do something, but I don't know what. Pale freckles are sprinkled on her nose and cheeks. Black eyeliner makes her big, luminous green eyes pop.

Her eyes are something else. They look weighed down, like she knows one too many secrets. Secrets that she is dying to share, but knows she can't. They also look like they are used to shutting people out, just like the rest of her face. Just like me.

But she is beautiful. Not the generic, artificial beauty, but genuine beauty. The type that is hard to find. The thing that makes me hurt is that I can tell she doesn't know it. She carries herself with pride because she doesn't think that her beauty is enough. That is the opposite of what the girls I'm used to do. I want to do something about it, make her think- no, make her _believe_- that she is beautiful.

We continue to stare at each other. She must think I am an idiot-or crazy- and I try to look away, but somehow I can't. I don't know what's wrong with me; I've never been this way around a girl. Or anyone, for that matter.

I barely register Izzy tapping on my shoulder, but I don't respond. I just keep staring, absorbing, memorizing. I want to look away, I really want to, but I _can't._ I feel like there is some force keeping me where I am, and I can't oppose it.

I feel someone shaking my shoulder, and I snap out of my daze. Alec stands next to me looking with concerned eyes. "Are you okay?"

I look back at Clary, but she isn't looking at me anymore. Then I hear it.

"I'll see you later Julian."

That's it. Thats _her _voice. The voice I turn to every night to keep me going. My safe haven.

Clary.

_My _Clary.

I keep my eyes on Clary's retreating figure. I look down at her shoes and see on her right one the laces are tied around the ankle. I smile to myself. _That's Clary. _I respond to Alec with the smile still on my face.

"Peachy."

**So there it is! I hope I didn't disappoint, but it is short because I am not going to do extensive sections in other characters' POV's. Thank you again to all of you who reviewed and/or favorited and/or followed. It helps me out and gets me all excited. That doesn't sound weird... **_**Anyways,**_** you know what I'm going to ask. Review? Oh, and when I was talking about my updating schedule (every week and mentioned last chapter I think) I think I am going to be updating sooner than that. But I stand true to my statement of 'it depends on what is going on in my life.' **

**Thanks guys! Review please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! Chapter 4 is up, and I hope you enjoy it. This is basically just explaining what Clary's status is in school and what other people think of her as. Read and review! Those are probably my favorite "R" words: read and review. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: *sigh* I am disappointed you need this. But I will do it for you, because that is how much I love you all. I am not the owner of the Mortal Instruments characters or anything relating to them or the series; I just play around with them.**

Wilson Moore High School; Where Our Nation's Future Leaders Grow and Prosper. I, personally, disagree with the motto. At least half of the school is going to get by working dead end, minimum wage jobs- people like me. The other half, the one in front of me now, is going to get by spending their parents' money. Even though the view is the same every time, I observe the scene.

I see Kailee (cheerleader captain and three time prom queen) and Aline (cheerleader co-captain and Kailee's lap dog) huddled around Kailee's locker along with the other girls in her group. At this point, I'm not sure I would call them girls; at least half of their bodies is silicone. _At least._

On the opposite side of the hallway are the jocks. I see Jonathan Morgenstern in his varsity jacket telling an animated story while the rest of the pea-brained clan laugh their heads off. However, I seriously doubt they even know what he is talking about. The one person I focus on is the golden boy from earlier this morning. He isn't laughing; in fact, he looks bored.

There must be some intelligence there.

I lock eyes with Jonathan, and I see him grin devilishly. _Oh no._ Something is going to happen. To me. The jocks don't just use me as a victim-there are others- but I am one of the easiest targets. Being an outcast and all, this is expected of me. It is almost like we all have a role in this school and we have to play it how it is expected. It has happened enough times that I basically know their routine; Prank, joke, laugh, walk away with pride leaving me embarrassed and angry.

I look away and see Brody, Jonathan's right hand man, heading towards me with a cup of some liquid wearing Jonathan's same grin. I uselessly try to dodge him, but I know what is coming. He brings his red slushee up to where the bottom of my neck is and he tilts it, spilling all of the freezing contents on my neck and chest.

"Oh sorry, I didn't see you there." _Nobody does._ "I actually think I did you a favor, you match your hair."

"I actually think I would be doing you a favor by rearranging your face, but I hold back. Oh, and thank you by the way, cherry's my favorite flavor." I am filled with rage right now, but I hide it, as usual, with sarcasm. "Is it yours?" I gather a red ice clump that was above my collarbone and throw it as hard as I can at his face.

The entire hallway gasps. I notice there is a thick mass of people surrounding us. _This is sick,_ I think. _Why do they get so much enjoyment out of this?_

I look back at Brody and just about burst with laughter at his expression. His eyes are squinted shut in disgust and his mouth is wide open in surprise. I can't help myself. I lift my hand and push his chin up so his mouth closes. I grasp his chin firmly and tilt his face so he would be looking at me if he actually opened his eyes. Turning his head from side to side, like examining a block of wood to decide what to make out of it, I say, "Not bad. I think red suits you." I release his chin and pat him on the shoulder before brushing past him to go to the bathroom.

I am almost proud of myself; I am never this bold. Maybe Julian was right. Maybe I _can_ handle them.

I swing open the girls bathroom door and cautiously walk in. I stop for a moment, not waiting to step in front of the mirror. I silently curse myself for being such a coward. All my bravado is gone. I don't want to see how disgusting I am. I don't want to see the defeated look on my face. I step in front of the cracked mirror and steel myself.

The ends of my hair are clumped together, tinted an unnatural red color. My chest is splotchy with layers of pink slushee and tiny bits of ice. My shirt made it through okay, only the very top and parts of the straps were affected. Tentatively, I look up to my face. My eyes look sunken in, tired. Like I need something desperately. Not just sleep. I need something _else_, something different that will wake me up and bring me back to life. I catch glimpses of that _alive_ person sometimes, like when I am talking to Jace, or skating around with Julian. It is rare, though.

I take a sheet of paper towel and turn the faucet on. I clean out my hair and dab my shirt, trying to rid myself of the clingy slushee liquid. I look myself over and decide I am ready to start on the big problem. As I am wiping the sticky substance off of my chest, I hear people arguing. About me. The voices are muffled, but I can hear Jonathan's voice floating through the door.

"Come on man, it was funny! Just chill out, she'll be fine. She just gets pissy for a while but she always comes out alright!" _But if you really knew..._

I hear another masculine voice answer him, and it sounds familiar, but I can't place it. He must be farther away from the door than the others because his words slur together. He sounds angry, but why? Why would he be angry?

"Why are you defending her? She's a freak! You don't even know her, you're new now but you'll figure it out soon enough. People like us don't hang around with people like her," Brody's voice appears.

The wind gets knocked out of me like I was punched in the gut.

_People like her. _

I am no longer considered a human being. To them, I am a breed of my own. Me along with all the other outcasts at this school.

_You'll figure it out soon enough._

The boy defending me will no longer see any reason to be associated with me after he learns the rules of having his social status. He will learn to abide by them and see me as everyone else sees me; less than them. The thought makes me cringe. Not because that is what they think of me, but because maybe they are right. Maybe I am less.

I dart out of the bathroom and into the hallway. I see a flash of gold, and I figure it out; the boy that was looking at me this morning defended me. He doesn't know me, but he_ defended me._ That's just it though; he doesn't know me. If he did, he wouldn't have done it.

I keep running through the halls, bumping in to various people along the way. I hear sounds of irritation coming from them, but I tune it out. Soon I can't hear anything. There are drowned out sounds, like when you listen closely when you are underwater. I just keep running until I notice people filing into classrooms. When everyone is gone, I find a janitors closet and step into it. I shut the door and lean against it for support. I bury my head in my hands and sink down until I am sitting. I feel tears slide down my cheek, warm at first then cold. I need to let it out; if I don't I might explode. I _will _explode.

I let out a strangled cry, resembling an animal. I don't care what I sound like. I sob as loud and hard as I can. My body starts to shake and tremble, but I make no effort to stop it. I cry for everything. For my mom not loving me. For people hating me, but not knowing me. For me hating myself. If Jace knew who and what I was he would hate me too. I also cry for Jace, but I don't know why.

After my hard sobs turn into soft whimpers, I just sit there. I know testing has started, and I will have to finish the test using the time I have left if I choose to return to class, but I still don't move. After a few minutes I drag myself up into a crouching position, then a standing one. I reach out both of my arms and arch my back, trying to treat my stiff joints. Stumbling out of the closet, I scan the hallway to look for a clock. 10:37. There is just shy of 50 minutes left in class. I make my way down the hallway after I decide to try and persuade my teacher to let me take the test. Catching my reflection in the glass display case, I stop and look.

I expect to see wild hair and bloodshot eyes, like my mom when she's high. But I don't; my usually closed off face looks peaceful, serene. My eyes are glassy, but they make my green eyes look even greener. The tongues of flames dancing on my head make me look unique and powerful. Maybe I should try crying more often.

I feel like all this pressure that has building up inside me has been released. Like I just pulled the plug and all my pain and worries slowly drained until none of that was left. I feel free. I know it will only last for so long until everything fills me back up, but I choose to revel in what freedom I am able to feel.

I continue down the hallway until I find my English classroom. I take a deep breath and open the door. Mr. Burg is sitting at his desk working at a Rubix cube. He is an odd looking man; short, but with the biggest beer gut I have ever seen. His small, beady eyes make him look like he is a predator and you are his prey. He combs his scarce, thin hair back neatly. He looks up when he hears me.

"Ah, Ms. Fray. It's nice of you to join us," he says snidely.

"Well, it's nice of you to use cliche's, Mr. Burg," I reply.

His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare, but he says nothing. He squints his eyes at me, almost like he is trying to solve a puzzle. Finally, he hands me the test and speaks. "You have until the end of the period to finish. Take a seat, Ms. Fray."

I sigh and find an unoccupied desk in the corner. _Crap, I forgot a pencil._ I drum my fingers on the desk and look around, trying to think of a solution that doesn't involve speaking to Mr. Burg again. I feel someone tap on my shoulder, so I turn my head. Golden boy. He is holding a pencil out to me, freshly sharpened and everything. I look from the pencil to his face. He raises his eyebrows and extends his arm out more to me as if to say _here, take it._

I reach out slowly and accept it. "Thank you," I say softly. He nods and returns to his test. I continue to study him before I shake my head and look down at my own test.

I breeze through the test and spend the rest of the time drawing in my notebook. I start to draw hands, but I can't tell where I have seen them before. My pencil moves swiftly across the paper, leaving trails of light gray in its wake. After many curves and fine lines, I look at the entire thing and observe it. At first I am confused. How could I make so much detail from just my imagination? Then it dawns on me. The narrow fingers. The tiny, almost unnoticable scar just above the left pinky bone. I turn my head slightly and glance back. The boy is still taking his test, so I look down to observe his hands. He writes with his left hand, which is something I find oddly interesting- in a good way. I scan his knuckles. I see the faint, thin scar just above the bone. I snap my head back and shake my head. Still shaking my head, I crumple up the paper and stuff it into my backpack hanging off the back of my chair. Choosing to forget what just happened, I settle back down and continue drawing.

Every once and a while I feel eyes on me and look up, only to find the mysterious boy looking at me. _Again._ What is so fascinating about me? Surely it can't be just my clothes or what Brody did to me, so what is it? What intrigues him so much about me? I am pondering this when the bell rings and we all exit.

-..~..-

The day goes by quickly, and by 3 o'clock school is done. I grab my backpack and skateboard out of my locker and walk quickly out of school. I can't be fast enough; I just want to leave.

When I reach the sidewalk in front of the school, I set my board down and take off. I hear footsteps behind me, but I dismiss it as other students walking home. The footsteps continue, strong and steady, and I figure out who it is behind me. Golden boy. I don't have to even turn around to confirm it. I am tired of trying to decipher why he is so curious when it comes to me. I decide to start a conversation to try and draw out answers from him.

"I'm not sure whether I should be creeped out or flattered that you keep looking at me, not to mention following. I don't have a soft spot in my heart for stalkers," I say.

"Well I would hope not," a deep voice chuckles.

My eyes widen and my heart just about stops. _No, it isn't him. It can't be._ I stick my foot out and slow the skateboard until it stops completely. Slowly, cautiously, I turn around. I lift my gaze so my green eyes meet his golden ones.

"Jace?"

**And there you have it! Chapter 4! I hope you liked it, and if you did (or didn't)...review! I am not as amazing as Jace so I can't read minds, and I would like to know what you are thinking. Also, t**

**his is the longest time I have gone between updates, but I think this is what will be the norm. **

**Anyways, you know the drill: review (and follow and favorite, but that part is just for extremely awesome people:) )**

**Until next time! Love you all!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! This is kind of a filler chapter, basically just a time span of an hour or so. There is more fun to come, though:)**

**Anyways, thank you to all of you who followed and reviewed! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I do not know what you are thinking, but I would like to! So pretty pretty please, review? Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Not Cassandra Clare. Not the owner of the Mortal Instruments. Not *****shudder* the owner of Jace. Or any of the others.**

"Jace?"

"Well if it isn't Ms. Clary Fray," Jace says softly. He meant for it to have a joking tone, but he sounds anything but that. He sounds and looks all sorts of things; awed, shocked, happy, confused- everything I am feeling as well.

"What are you doing here?" we both ask at the same time.

I cross my arms over my chest and say in a mock business tone, "Well, Mr. Lightwood, I have resided here my entire life. _You_ are the one invading _my_ territory."

He laughs, and butterflies are let loose in my stomach. I remember the way I felt talking to him over the phone, and now that we are here in person I don't know if I will be able to handle it. I don't understand. _Why do I feel like this? We have always been friends, nothing more. He is like a brother to me._ Even as I think this the word brother makes me sick. I refocus on Jace and realize he has been talking.

"-his work relocated him and the commute was an issue, so that was a big reason. We ended up ahead of schedule, so we came here early, and Mayrse thought it was a good idea to go to school to scope out the area, I guess."

"I thought you were coming to let the female population get acquainted with your student body," I raise an eyebrow.

"First of all, you don't do that right," he says gesturing to my eyebrow. "Second of all, I'm here with you, aren't I?" he smirks.

I feel the heat starting to flood to my cheeks, slow and steady, like syrup spilling. I force it down and respond, "I wouldn't exactly call this getting acquainted with your body."

"Would you like to make it that?" he asks seductively.

I scoff and push off on my skateboard, continuing the ride home. Home. _Damn it. _I abruptly change direction. I can't bring him home. A small, tight ball forms in my stomach, and I know the feeling. I know it all too well. Guilt. Every time I say something that covers up my life, my _real _life, I feel it. It's like there is a wall that bares all of my truths. It doesn't leave anything out. I feel like I walk along the wall, picking the spots I want to paint over and hide from the world. Jace's wall is like a mural. A work of art. Mine is like graffiti, some people appreciate aspects of it, but most find it a nuisance and unnecessary.

"Hey," Jace says suddenly. "You want to come over to my house? Izzy and Alec-"

"And Max, always forgetting Max," I mutter.

"_And Max_ are going to go crazy when they find out this is you. They probably aren't expecting...this," he finishes lamely.

"You are exactly what I expected you to be like," I say.

"Oh, so you were imagining what I would look like? I can't say it's uncommon, only tiring to be on so many girls' minds," he sighs dramatically. "But, may I add, you are _not _exactly what I expected you to be like."

My heart sinks. Of course I'm not. He was probably expecting a pretty girl, someone tall, someone skinny, but not in the scrawny childlike way I am. Someone with a light personality, not the pessimistic dark one I possess. Someone...not me. I feel inferior compared to this beautiful -inside and out- person in front of me. But, I don't let that side of me show. I never do. Instead I automatically stiffen, going into my defensive mode.

"What did you expect?" I ask, my words clipped.

"To be honest," he says, "I don't know." There is a pause, and then he continues, saying the words that make all of my doubts fade until there are none. "But I'm glad I found out."

I look up and my breath hitches when I see his expression. He is looking at me with an emotion I can't place, but it is intense. It is almost curious, but I don't know why. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. Before I lose myself in the molten gold, I tear my gaze away.

I clear my throat and say, "Lead the way."

"What?" he asks, confusion dominating his features.

"To your house," I elaborate. "You do know where you live, right Jace?"

"Of course I do, I know everything," he says, arrogant as usual.

I feel a wave of relief. We are joking, which means we are back on normal terms. I don't know what was going on before, but we are in our comfort zone. This is the way I like it.

I think.

"Before we go, can I use your phone to call my boss? I have to let him know I won't be working today," I say.

"Sure," he says and takes out his phone. After a few unsuccessful attempts at figuring out how to use it, I give up.

"Jace, how do you work this thing?" I scrunch my nose in frustration.

Jace looks shocked. I don't even have a home phone, so I barely know how to use those. Ask me to function a cell phone and I am lost.

"It looks like it's from Star Wars or something," I joke. Jace laughs and shows me how to work it. After calling Mr. Harrison, we continue on our way.

I tag along behind him the whole way while we talk comfortably about random things. These are the conversations I find I like best- the ones where we talk about _everything_, but nothing really at all. I keep my eyes fixed on Jace's back, watching the muscles expand and contract rythymically as he walks. Finally, I look around and absorb my surroundings. I feel my mouth slowly drifting open as I see the neighborhood Jace now calls home.

The houses are enormous. Actually, that doesn't begin to describe them. They average about three stories tall, made up of all different kinds of bricks-gray, tan, red. The windows are plentiful and huge, their translucence making the houses look open and welcoming. They each have their own little plot of lawn, perfectly cut and edged to the point where it almost looks fake. The landscaping is beautiful, and I can't help but rub my fingers together. There are different kinds of flowers, all seemingly in full bloom and beautiful, bursting with color. It also puzzles me that you could even find a place like this in New York. At least, you can't on the side that I live in. As I start to ponder how long we might have been walking, I hear Jace speak.

"Barney or Dora?"

I furrow my eyes together and ask, "What are you talking about?"

Jace gives me a patronizing look and says, "Clary, these are things we must know about each other if our relationship were to continue."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I am constantly forgetting the importance of my preference of childhood television shows," I say sarcastically.

"No need to apologize, I will grant you the privilege of being forgiven," Jace responds, giving me a cocky grin.

I sigh, knowing it is useless to even_ try _to argue with him. But I do speak. "Dora."

Jace nods, the corners of his mouth turning down, like he is contemplating something. "I was expecting that to be your answer."

"How would you know that?" I ask.

"Well, once you told me you saw a puppet show at school, and the puppets were dragons and dinosaurs. You said it scared you." he says with a shrug, like it's something he's always known. It may not be a big deal to him, but it is to me. This one, _tiny_ detail proves something; he cares about me. He cares enough to remember a stupid puppet show I told him about. He cares enough to keep in mind that I don't like dragons or dinosaurs. He _cares._ A warm feeling starts in my stomach and spreads until my entire body is engulfed in this foreign yet happy feeling. Someone cares. I have always known Luke cares about me, and so does Mr. Harrison- even if it is in his own way. Izzy and Alec and Max care about me, but I doubt any of these people would remember this one detail about me.

But Jace did.

When I gather my wits, I, surprisingly, ask Jace a reasonable question. "Which one is yours?"

Jace looks over his shoulder at me and points nonchalantly. I follow where his finger is pointing and gasp. For some reason his house looks even more beautiful than the others. The bricks are a deep red color, a contrasting background against the bright pink and yellow flowers planted neatly in front. I step off of my skateboard and follow him up the path. Right when we reach the door Jace stops and turns towards me.

"You ready?" he asks.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly and loudly. Dramatically, I say, "Ready as I'll ever be."

Jace laughs and pulls the heavy dark oak door open. As we walk in, I start to feel the nerves get to me. What if Izzy and Alec don't like me? But they're my best friends, it doesn't matter what I look like. _Maybe it does matter..._

My thoughts are cut short as I hear a conversation coming from somewhere within the house.

"Alec! Where did you put my makeup bag?" Izzy screams loudly. I hear a much calmer, more controlled voice answer her.

"Izzy, I'm right here. No need to shout. I put it in your room, where the rest of your stuff is. Did you look there yet?" Alec asks.

"Well...no," Izzy says, quieter this time.

Alec sighs, sounding annoyed, but not quite. That is one of the things that amazes me about Alec; he can remain completely calm throughout any situation. "Well maybe next time you should look where the rest of your stuff is."

"Fine. I will. But can you come help me? Please? Their is _a ton_ of stuff in my room, and it will take me years to sort through it all," Izzy asks sweetly.

Alec sighs again. "All right."

I hear the sharp clack of heels on hard wood floors, accented by the soft padding of what I am guessing is Alec's gait. I see Izzy flounce into the open entryway that I am currently stationed in now. As soon as she sees me, she pauses, looking me straight in the eye with a hard stare. I pause too, studying her.

She is the girl I saw earlier this morning. For some reason I feel a wave of relief at the fact she is not Jace's girlfriend. I bite my lip, frustrated that I keep thinking these thoughts. Like Jace, she is what I expected her to be: confident, beautiful, fierce.

Then Alec walks in, looking slightly less imposing. He has mussed up hair, and wears jeans with a gray sweathshirt. He would blend in, just like I thought. I almsot smile at how well I know him, even from just talking to him on the phone. I open my mouth to greet them, but Izzy beats me to it.

"Wow Jace, first day and you already brought a girl in? I can't say I'm surprised, but I _am_ shocked at your choice. She's not one of the usuals," Izzy says, scowling. I can tell she doesn't like me. Or at least doesn't approve of me. Great. Just great.

"You're right, she isn't one of the usuals. If I may, I would like for you two to be introduced, or three, actually," Jace says, nodding at Alec. Izzy raises one eyebrow, as if granting his permission to continue the conversation. Jace looks at me expectantly. I swallow hard and look over at Izzy and Alec. I take a couple steps forward and stick my hand out. "Clary Fray. It's nice to finally meet you."

Izzy's eyes widen and her mouth forms an "o" shape. She stays that way for a while. I start to feel apprehensive, and then suddenly her mouth snaps shut and she blinks a few times, as if snapping out of a daze. Again, I start to feel nervous. She hasn't said anything. Alec hasn't said anything either. That's it. They don't like me. As I process my rejection, Izzy's face splits into a wide smile and she lets out a shrill squeal.

"Ah! Oh, by the Angel, it's Clary!" she looks from Alec to Jace as she says this. She turns back to me. "It's you! It's really you!"

I open my arms and look down, pretending to look myself over. I look up, feigning surprise, and say, "That it is."

Relief washes over me. This is the Izzy I know; the overly excited and happy one, not the dark, closed off one that was previously in front of me. I look over at Alec, cautiously gauging his reaction. He has a smile on his face, not a big one, but not a small one either. I am guessing this is the most I will get out of him. Finally, I let myself smile as well.

I look back at Izzy and she squeals, _again,_ and then throws herself at me. I stiffen immediately. I am not used to physical contact. At least not the loving kind. Occasionally, one of my mom's boyfriend's would come over high- or drunk, of course- and knock me around. Why? I have no idea, but the sick satisfaction on her face is enough to know she wishes she could do that to me. I know the only reason she doesn't is because the CPS would take me away from her if they found any marks, and I am her only steady flow of income. The money _she _makes is spent on her drugs. So, as a result, she mars me emotionally instead of physically. The marks she leaves on me are not able to be seen.

Finally I wrap my arms around Izzy, returning her powerful hug. It was nice talking to her, but actually being with a friend, a _girl_ friend, feels nice. After a moment, she pulls away and looks me over. I tense up as she observes me. I don't know what she expected, but it probably wasn't a scrawny goth girl with bright red hair. I feel self conscious compared to this gorgeous girl standing in front of me. This is how I felt with Jace, and I can only hope I can get over the feeling.

As she is looking, I hear her mumble, "Well, you most definitely _aren't_ the usual." The usual? Usual what? I know I'm not the typical girl, but what _is_ considered the usual? "I can work with this." She then smiles up at me knowingly. I don't necessarily know what she means.

I turn to Jace and Alec and ask, "This isn't good, is it?"

Jace smirks and Alec sends me an apologetic look. "You'll find out soon enough," Alec says.

"Don't scare her!" Izzy scolds. "This is going to be so fun! Can you sleep over after the party tonight?"

"Party?" I ask, confused.

"Oh yeah," Jace speaks up. "There is a party here tonight. Kind of a housewarming party, but just for us. Maryse and Robert are out getting everything ready with work tonight, so they won't be back until the morning. Which means, we have all authority. We can do whatever we want."

"Um..." I don't know what to say. Mom will be pissed if I don't come home tonight, but she won't get worried either. I don't really care anyways. "Sure. Why not?"

"Oh my gosh! We have to get ready! The party starts in four hours," Izzy says, suddenly panicked.

"Iz, I doubt it will take us four hours to get ready," I say reassuringly.

"But it will take her four hours to choke you with lip gloss," Jace grumbles.

Izzy glares at him, but then turns to me, excitement radiating off of her. "Come on, we have a lot of work to do." As Izzy drags me off to her room, I catch Jace and Alec giving me worried and pitying faces. I don't know what this is about, but I'm not sure I want to find out.

But I do know I am going to a party tonight with people from my school. The very same people that think I'm weird.

Well, this is going to be interesting.

**Woot woot! Partay! It's not all gonna be fun and games though (foreshadowing...). Anyways, I hope you liked this. Like I said before, this was a filler chapter. The real action is coming up.**

**Review! Please please please please! I get way more encouraged when I see comments or constructive criticism giving me an inside view of what you're thinking. **

**Thanks for reading! Until next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

Do not get excited. This isn't an interesting chapter at all in my opinion. Blunt, I know, but I'm being honest. This ended up being really long, so I am making this and the actual party two separate chapters. So_next___chapter is where the drama and sexual tension and all that good stuff will take place. I know, I'm awful. I think I will upload it tomorrow since I don't have anything going on this weekend anymore. I am going to work on it right now because I'm not tired and Jackass is really getting me pumped up. Gosh I love that show.

Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I can't think of a clever way to say this, so I will just do it; I do not own the Mortal Instruments.

Izzy and I walk up the massive stairs leading to a wide hallway. She leads me to a door on the right, and opens it. I clench my teeth together to keep my jaw from dropping.

Her room is huge; actually, it's enormous. It fits her king bed, which is furnished with a dark pink, almost purple, bed set with decorative pillows and everything. On top of it there are numerous boxes and bags. The floor is littered with them too.

The walls are black, but with the same dark pink layered on top of it, almost like someone lightly air brushed it on. There is a beautiful window seat in the front of the room, right under a very large window that is letting the bright afternoon light seep in. Snapping me out of my daze, Izzy grabs my hand and leads me to a large vanity against the wall on the right. She pushes down on my shoulders and plops me down on the chair, facing away from the mirror.

"Okay, let's have a look at you," she says more to herself than me. She fingers a lock of my hair and nods, looking like she is deciding something. "Your hair is gorgeous."

I blush at this statement. Receiving compliments has never really been my thing, and when I do get them I always get embarrassed. Sometimes people who come into the store give me compliments, but they are usually elderly and have little to no good eyesight left. Plus, I feel like they say it mostly for my benefit. The way Izzy says it doesn't sound like she is trying to make me feel better; she says it like it's a fact.

"I want to keep the curls, they are beautiful. I am just going to put some product to keep the frizz down and make them silkier and softer," she says while brushing my hair. I can tell she is completely in her element, so I don't question her. She sets the brush down and grabs a bottle of some gel, I wouldn't know what kind, and massages it into my scalp and applies it evenly throughout my ends.

"Okay. Now on to your makeup."

"That's it? You're done with my hair?" I ask.

"Honey, when it's me that is styling you it might as well be magic," Izzy says with a wink. "Besides, your hair is gorgeous enough already." I laugh and see Izzy grab some concealer. She dabs it at various spots on my face and then blends it together. Then she applies the same eyeliner and mascara I use. "You had good taste when you picked this stuff out," she says.

"Thanks. I just grabbed the stuff with the coolest looking container," I say with a shrug. Izzy then bursts out laughing, and I just sit there, confused. Then I realize how I must have sounded to someone who is a goddess with beauty products. At first I am embarrassed, but then I laugh along with Izzy. It feels good to do this, to laugh. I was right when I thought I would be happier if the Lightwoods came here. For the first time, it dawns on me how lucky I am to actually be here with them. Today could have been like every other day; go to school, go to work, call Jace, go home, fight with Mom, sit on the fire escape dreaming about what my life could've been like had my dad stayed in the picture. Instead I am here, with my best friends.

After our laughter fades out, I hear Izzy order with a stern voice, "Close your eyes."

"Ma'am yes ma'am!" I respond with a small salute. Izzy just shakes her head and chuckles softly. I do what I am told, and I feel a slight pressure which I am guessing is her applying eye shadow.

"Pucker your lips," Izzy says once she is done. I stick my lips out and feel stupid, but it seems to be what Izzy wanted. I feel something cold brush across my lips. "Now rub them together."

Again, I do what I am told, but I feel odd. This whole process is completely foreign to me. All I put on is mascara and eyeliner, which is pretty much the bare minimum compared to what Izzy is doing to me. She is doing all of this to make me pretty, which is also foreign and new to me. I never really aimed to look pretty. I just aimed to look noticeable.

"Okay. We're all set in the head department," Izzy says.

"That didn't sound weird," I say sarcastically.

"Wow you are so funny. I can't handle it," Izzy says flatly. "Anyways, it's time for the dress and shoes!"

"Dress?" I say, dread creeping into my tone. I race to find an excuse. "Um...I didn't bring one."

"That doesn't matter. I have a dress that I think will look stunning on you," Izzy says enthusiastically. I stare in disbelief. I look at her form. She is tall with curves. I look down at my form. I am short and flat chested with zero curves. I look back up at Izzy who is currently ripping boxes open and throwing out its contents. I hear her almost incoherent mumbling as she is doing so.

"What...I thought...no, it's this one...where did I...ugh...wait, wait...yes! I found it!" Izzy screams.

"Obviously," I say.

"Okay," Izzy says, ignoring my snide remark, "throw this on."

She hands me a black dress. _Not too unusual for me,_ I think hopefully. I grab it by the top so I can see the whole thing. It has a tight bodice and is strapless, which worries me. The top is lace that forms a floral pattern, and there is a flesh colored fabric behind the lace to ensure everything is covered. It gathers at the ribs, just below my breasts, with a thin black waistband. A puffy black material flows as the skirt. From what I can tell, it's beautiful.

"What are you waiting for? Try it on!" Izzy exclaims.

I sigh in defeat and retreat into the corner to change. I still feel uncomfortable when I am in Izzy's presence. Confidence and beauty radiate off of her constantly. I have never been like that, and I don't think I ever will. Maybe I'll grow into someone and I will. I can still hope.

After I have slipped the dress on I begin to walk in front of the mirror. Izzy is sitting in front of the vanity doing her makeup, and she must sense me coming. She jumps up and runs toward me.

"No you don't," she says,

"I believe I have a right to see _my own body_," I snap.

"Probably, but not right now."

"But why not?" I whine.

"The element of surprise is beneficial in multiple ways."

"Fine. What about shoes?" I ask tiredly. I see Izzy's face light up and immediately regret asking.

"Oh my gosh, I have the cutest pair!" Izzy squeals. "What size are you?"

"Seven."

"Yup. Perfect match," Izzy says with a triumphant smile.

"You're a size seven?" I ask, doubtful.

"No, but I do have a cute pair that is that size," she responds.

"And why would you have a pair of shoes that isn't your size?" I ask.

"I got them when I was a size seven and every pair of shoes deserves to be loved and cherished," Izzy says matter-of-factly.

I laugh. "Sure, Iz."

"Okay, let me get them. Give me a second." After a few minutes of Izzy rummaging through random boxes and bags, she emerges with the shoes. "Here, put these on."

They are plain black with heels about 5 inches tall. They are very pretty; it actually matches perfectly with the dress. The heels seem to have the same fabric covering them as the fabric on the skirt. But 5 inches? I will probably kill myself walking down the stairs before anybody actually sees them.

"Iz, they are a little tall," I say worriedly.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a lesson on how to walk," Izzy reassures me.

Despite my protests, Izzy gives me a tutorial on how to walk. After maybe 30 minutes, she decides I am good enough. My almost broken ankle and balls of my feet disagree with her, but I am not about to ask her for more practice.

"Okay, you can look in the mirror now." Izzy grabs my shoulders from behind and leads me in front of the full length mirror next to her vanity. My breathing hitches instantly.

I am stunning; not _mediocre_, not _good enough_. Stunning. My long hair falls in perfect, orderly curls down my back. I never realized how long it was- almost to my waist. Its deep red color makes the black from my dress stand out. My makeup is flawless. There is thin layer of black eyeliner accenting my eyes along with mascara that makes my lashes look thick and dark and long. Izzy added smoky black eye shadow that makes my eyes look impossibly green. The concealer she applied lightened the freckles and removed any flaws from my face. She also put on nude lip gloss that makes my lips look plump and soft. And my dress. _My dress._ Even though it didn't gather at my waist, and it didn't give me curves, it made my petite frame look beautiful. The skirt flowed down to just about mid-thigh. My heels make my legs look a mile long and add a few inches to my height.

My mouth breaks into possibly the biggest smile I have ever given. I look back at Izzy and say, "I love it! I look...I look..." I struggle to find the words.

"Beautiful. Gorgeous. _Sexy._ Those would all work. Speaking of sexy, we need to find you a guy tonight," Izzy says with a mischievous look in her eye.

I scoff. "Iz, no one has, or ever will be interested in me. No one notices me, let alone guys."

"Wearing this they will have to be crazy _not_to want to make-"

"Izzy!"

"What? I was going to say 'make romantic poetry!'" she says, winking. "Anyways, I have to get ready."

About an hour later we are both dressed and Izzy looks fantastic. She is wearing a dark blue dress with a tight fitting bodice that accents her small waist, and the skirt poofs out and down to her knees. It is strapless with a sweetheart neckline that shows off her shoulders and back. Her heels are the same color of the dress and are shiny. The material looks like silk, and they each have a tiny bow on the front. Her raven black hair is pin straight and cascades down her back to her waist. Her makeup is the same as mine, except she has silvery eye shadow and light pink lip gloss.

We hear shuffling and rearranging going on downstairs, and we know Jace and Alec must've started getting things ready. We walk out her room and loop arms as we walk down the stairs. As we are walking, I hear Izzy ask, "You ready?"

I take a deep breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."

I know you guys are like, "WTF?" and I know, I would be like that too! But you mustn't worry, the next chapter will be up soon. Sorry again, and I will see you soon! Review, favorite, follow- you know, just the_highlights of my day_!

Until next time my lovelies!


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello! So...PARTY TIME! Yes, this is the party. I hope I don't disappoint. Also, everybody seems very OOC in this chapter. But that's just my opinion. Heads up; there is drama, sexual tension, and some mature language. Actually, I don't know what counts as 'mature' since I am one of the younger writers on Fanfiction I think. Anyways, read on!**

**Disclaimer: I am not having a movie made out of one of my books. I am not the creator of Clary and Jace (and Izzy). I am not Cassandra Clare. I think you can infer the rest...**

When me and Izzy reach the bottom of the stairs, we walk into the kitchen to see Jace putting different types of drinks on the table. As always, he just about takes my breath away. He isn't wearing anything too flashy, just simple jeans and high top Adidas sneakers along with a plain white t-shirt. Even though he is only wearing that I think he looks handsome. To me, he always looks handsome.

I inwardly groan at these thoughts. _Why can't I think of Jace as just a friend? That's obviously all he sees me as._ I shake my head to clear the thoughts.

"When are the people going to get here?" Izzy asks Jace.

Without stopping what he is doing, he responds, "Maybe ten minutes. I don't know whe-" he cuts himself off when he turns around and sees us. He glances at Izzy and doesn't look surprised, but when he makes it to me his eyes widen and his mouth drifts open. His eyes hold a kind of emotion I've never seen before. _Does he think I look pretty?_ He snaps his mouth shut and the emotion in his eyes switches dramatically. He almost looks angry. _No, he doesn't think I'm pretty. Why would he?_ I silently scold myself for actually thinking that someone like Jace would think someone like me would look pretty. My heart sinks a little more every passing second as he stares at me with that expression.

"There's no way in hell you're wearing that!" Jace yells.

"And why not?" I ask defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Do you _want_ all the guys here to jump you? Looking like that," he gestures to my dress, "they'll just...they could...go change."

"No," Izzy answers for me, "you're not her father, so you don't get to dictate what she wears or whether or not guys jump her." Suddenly her face looks quizzical, and she asks, "Why do you care anyways?"

"I don't," he answers too quickly. "I just don't want guys to think she's-"

"Available?" Izzy asks. "You can't have her all to yourself tonight Jace. If guys want to talk to her they can! I'm going to find her a guy. A _hot _one at that."

Why would he want me all to himself? What is she talking about? And why wouldn't Jace want guys to know I'm single? These questions float around in my mind as I try to focus on the conversation.

Jace huffs like he knows he can't win this one. Finally, he speaks. "Fine." He turns away from us and continues to put drinks on the table. Izzy smirks triumphantly and then rotates to turn to me.

"Let's go upstairs," she says.

"What? Why?" I ask.

"Well, it's cool to be fashionably late. We should come down about ten minutes after the party has started. It will be busy enough by then. Enough cute boys to mingle with," she says with a wink.

"Okay," I concede, still dreading the fact popular boys will be there. Not to mention girls. Girls who will be draping themselves on Jace. I feel a hot rage tear through me. I don't understand this feeling. Suddenly I understand. Jealousy. I am jealous. I have felt jealousy before, just not to this extent. I used to envy other people at my school because they had perfect lives, and I was stuck in what is basically a crack house with my mom who wouldn't care if I was dead or alive. I used to envy them all the time, but I have come to terms with what is my life. I repeat a mantra in my head every time I get jealous: I don't care. It's as simple as that; if you don't care about anything, you don't feel anything. Sad, but true. I have never felt jealousy like _this_ before. It threatens to tear me apart.

"You okay there?" Izzy asks, freeing me from my trance. I blink a few times and realize we are in her room already.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lie.

-..~..-

"It's go time!" Izzy claps her hands together.

"Yay," I say with no enthusiasm at all.

"Come on Clary! This is going to be fun!" Izzy tries to convince me. I seriously doubt that it will be even remotely fun.

"Sure."

With that she grabs my arm and drags me downstairs. I hear music blasting and the floor beneath my feet shakes a little. There is a mass of people spread throughout the entire house holding red cups full of what I am guessing is alcohol. Most of them being the jocks and the sluts of the school. I am relieved to see that nobody has noticed me. Izzy leads me to the drinks and pours herself some beer.

"You want some?" she asks me.

"No, I don't drink. But thanks," I say. I don't like anything that messes with your mind. I know what can happen if you have too much and what the effects are. Believe me, I know all too well.

She shrugs. "Suit yourself."

We talk for about a half an hour before we see a figure walking towards us.

"Hey," the figure says to us awkwardly. I recognize the voice; it is Simon Lewis. He is considered a huge dork throughout the school, but I don't have a problem with him. He seems nice enough, and he has never judged me or said anything mean concerning me or anyone else. "Uh, would you want to- I mean, ah, would you mind- could I dance with you?" he finally sputters out. I look at Izzy, silently willing for her to be nice and say yes.

She has a certain gleam in her eye, almost as if she is in a daze. Her mouth has a small trace of a smile as she says, "Yes." She turns to me with pleading eyes.

"Go," I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. She smiles and takes Simon's hand. I watch as they walk into the mob until I can't see them anymore. I am still gazing into the crowd when I feel someone tap on my shoulder. I turn around and see Sebastian Verlac. He is one of the jocks, but I don't mind him as much. He never participated when the rest of his group were making fun of me, and he isn't mean or spiteful like them either. Not to mention he is easy on the eyes. He has dark brown shaggy hair and fair skin. His pale skin makes his deep hazel eyes stand out.

"Hey Clary," he says with a smile.

"Hi Sebastian," I respond with a smile as well.

"You enjoying the party?" he says gesturing to the people with his cup.

"Parties aren't really my thing. I'm not used to this kind of atmosphere," I say with a shrug.

"By 'this kind of atmosphere' you mean a bunch of girls wearing practically nothing dancing with wasted guys who are hoping to get lucky?" he asks. I nod my head in response. "Well, if it's worth anything you're not like those girls. You look beautiful tonight."

I just about faint. No boy has every called me beautiful- much less one of his status. A warm feeling spreads from my chest out to every part of my body. He thinks I am beautiful. _Sebastian Verlac _thinks I'm beautiful. Not pretty. Not hot. Beautiful.

"Thank you," I say in a timid voice.

He gives me a big smile, and then suddenly it drops. He looks down at his shoes as if he is embarrassed or ashamed. Maybe both.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Listen, I- I don't really know how to say this, but here goes. I know about all of the crap you deal with and have been dealing with for a long time. Most of it comes from the guys, and I want to apologize for it. None of them know how amazing you really are, and I don't know why they feel the need to make your life a living hell. I guess they are just a bunch of obnoxious, self-centered dicks who don't know how to deal with whatever is screwing up their lives. I also want to apologize for my part in it. I know I didn't actually say or do anything to you, but I didn't stop the guys from doing what they did. I was as much of an obnoxious, self-centered dick as they were. And for that, I am really, really sorry."

I freeze. I didn't expect that. A boy is actually apologizing to me. Two great feats in one night- I feel accomplished. I also feel bad that _he _feels bad. He did nothing wrong, and I wouldn't have expected him to stop his friends from doing all the stuff they did to me.

Sebastian waves a hand in front of my face. "You okay there?"

I shake my head and blink. "Um, yeah. I'm fine. I've just never had a boy apologize to me. Or anyone apologize to me, really."

He scratches the back of his neck and looks at me through his lashes. "Well, it was necessary. I just wanted you to know I feel like shit because of what has happened over the years. I just thought you deserved to know that at least someone feels bad."

I smile. "Thanks. For everything. It means a lot. Also, I think I can successfully say you have broken the popular guy stereotype."

Sebastian laughs, "Which would be...?"

"That you guys are dumb and jerks who only care about getting into girls' pants. Or is that what you are trying to do?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Crap! You caught me! Abort mission, abort mission!" he says into a fake walkie talkie.

I laugh probably a little too hard, but I don't care. It feels good to be like this. For the first time in my life, I feel like a real teenager. Right now I don't have any worries and I feel free. Freedom; that's a beautiful concept.

Me and Sebastian stay in our corner the whole night. We don't dance, we don't get drunk, we just simply talk. About our favorite bands, most hated teachers, favorite type of precipitation. It's the most fun I have had in a while, which is probably pretty pathetic given we are just talking, huddled in a corner. While Sebastian is explaining why First of the Year (Equinox) is his favorite song by Skrillex, I feel a burning sensation on the back of my head. It is the same feeling I got before I turned around and saw Jace for the first time. I look behind me and see Jace glaring daggers at me and Sebastian from the corner across the room. I also notice how a very drunk Kailee is sitting on his lap playing with his hair, but it keeps slipping through her fingers. I am too confused to be jealous. I give Jace a questioning look. _Why would he be mad at me and Sebastian? What's his problem?_

When Jace sees me look at him he wipes the angry look off of his face and smirks. I wish he wouldn't do this to me, I wish he wouldn't shut me out. He tips his head as a silent greeting and looks back at Kailee. She smiles stupidly at him, and he smiles back, but it looks fake and forced. Right when I am about to turn back to face Sebastian I see Jace crush his lips to Kailee's and she responds enthusiastically. They make out sloppily, and you can see tongue and everything.

I am not jealous. I am not angry. I am numb. It feels like all the sound has faded away in the room, along with the people, and there is only me and Jace and Kailee. _Why would he do this to me? No, this was expected. I expected him to date girls like Kailee. But why am I reacting like this?_

When I can't take it anymore, I turn back to Sebastian. He is looking at me with concerned eyes. "Are you okay, Clary?"

"Totally. I just spaced out for a moment. It happens to me a lot," I shrug and say with fake laugh. He doesn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, it happens to all of us. I think it happens to the greatest minds the most, though," he says while staring at me intently. I feel like I can't look away from him- the same thing I felt with Jace, only this time it is a little weaker. _Jace._ At the thought, I feel the burn again. I can tell he is looking at me, but I will not comply to his wishes; I don't look at him.

All too soon, the party is over and everyone is filing out of the house. Sebastian looks back at me and grabs my hand. He raises it to his mouth and presses his lips to my knuckles lightly. My skin tingles where his lips have touched it.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Clary. Good night." With that, he releases my hand and walks out of the house, and I am left staring at him.

"Score!" Izzy yells, suddenly next to me.

"What? What are you talking about?" I ask, still looking at where he exited.

"You and Sebastian? That's what the 'score' was about."

"What do you mean 'me and Sebastian?'" I ask.

"He was totally into you. I mean Clary, who wouldn't be? You look amazing," Izzy says simply.

"He said I was beautiful," I whisper. Izzy's jaw drops and then remakes itself into a broad smile. She squeals, and I cover my ears dramatically. "You know squealing isn't necessary for everything?"

"But for this it is! First we have to get ready for bed, then you have to give me all the details," Izzy requests.

"Okay," I say, not wanting to argue. To be honest, I want to tell her about everything. I haven't had a girl friend _ever,_ and this feels nice. I like having someone I can talk to about my problems and gossip with about cute boys or how dumb the popular girls are.

Izzy excuses herself to the bathroom, and I turn and bump into something hard. I look up and find myself staring into gold; Jace.

"Hey Jace," I say, trying to sound casual.

"Don't 'hey Jace' me. I saw you and Verlac," he snaps venemously.

"So? Don't act innocent. You're talking like you _don't_ have a bucket of Kailee's spit in your mouth right now."

"That's different!" I am a little freaked out. He has never sounded this mad when he's talked to me before. "I don't like him!"

"And you think I like Kailee?" I am basically screaming at him.

"I don't care if you do! Verlac's bad news and I don't like you ogling him all night!" he screams right back.

"Why do you even care? Just because my dad isn't here to do his job doesn't mean I need you to fill in for him. I can handle Sebastian!" I yell.

"Oh, I know," Jace says slowly, calmly. He is starting to scare me. "You're Clary Fray. You can handle everything. For as smart as you are, Clary, you're acting pretty stupid." He shakes his head. "You're trusting Verlac way too easily. His whole group has been taunting you for years! How can you just look past that? They don't give two shits about you, and neither does Sebastian. I don't want you getting hurt, Clary. Just trust me on this one."

"Like I said, you're not my father. Don't act like it."

I spin on my heels and storm off, going in the direction Izzy's room is. I want to scream in frustration. _Why can't he just let it be? Why does he even care?_ I open the door and shut it loudly enough so Jace can hear.

I walk over to the bed and sit down. Trying to calm myself, I take deep breaths. Someone knocks on the door softly before opening it.

"What happened down there? Jace looks like someone just told him he's not going to get laid anymore," Izzy asks.

"Nothing. He was just being an idiot. We got into a fight, that's all," I shrug, trying to look indifferent. I'm anything but that right now.

Izzy sighs but says nothing more. A few minutes later she crosses over and kneels in front of me. "He's just looking out for you. Whatever it was, he wasn't trying to make you mad."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Sure Iz," I say tiredly.

"C'mon. Let's get ready for bed."

**Okay, I just edited this chapter. I must have been on something when I wrote it because Jace was way too OOC before. I just wrote an alternate (and better) version of the ending of the chapter. **

**Hope you guys liked it! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!**

**Extra Disclaimer: **

***First of the Year (Equinox) by Skrillex- great song by the way, check it out!**

**Love you all!**

**~ .on**


	8. Chapter 8

**Another update! How good am I? Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, but it does have some Clace. Which is what I know you all want ;). Also, I may not be updating for a while. I am getting the flu and I feel like crap. Along with that, I have a student council meeting later and volleyball practices are getting to be more frequent because the tournament is coming up, along with a scrimmage. I'm **_**super **_**excited (she says with sarcasm). **_**Anyways, **_**you guys probably don't want to hear my problems, so read and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Mortal Instruments series. Sorry that wasn't very unique or clever, I am just not feeling very 'in the mood' for that today.**

Even after Izzy and I went to bed, or were supposed to , I stayed up thinking about Jace._ Why did he say that? _He has never, in all the time I've known him, said anything that would make me feel like I can't take care of myself. Sure, he has made jokes, but those were harmless. Even though I am trying to be, I can't bring myself to be angry at Jace. Most of what he said was true anyways. I know I will not be going to bed anytime soon, so I decide to walk around the house as an attempt to clear my mind.

I quietly get up from the floor and tip toe out of the room, careful not to wake Izzy. I wander into the hallway and down the stairs aimlessly. As soon as I reach the base of the stairs, I see a faint light coming from the living room. My curiosity gets the best of me and I walk softly towards the room. I reach the doorway and stop.

Jace is sitting on the couch, hunched over, with his face in his hands. His hair is mussed up, and there are a few beers on the table in front of him. I debate whether or not I should approach him. He could still be mad, but I'd rather get everything out of the way instead of having tension between us tomorrow.

I walk into the room and sit down next to Jace. "Hey," I say quietly.

"Hey," Jace says a moment later, his face still in his hands.

"I'm sorry," we both say at the same time.

We both laugh. "I'm sorry I made such a big deal about Verlac. Your life, your choice." He raises his hands in defeat. "I was being kind of a controlling asshat."

I smile a little. "I agree. That word pretty much sums you up."

Jace smirks. "There are other words I would use to describe myself."

"Well, you had a point with most of the things you said. They _do _taunt me, so at least you weren't lying about that. I don't think Sebastian's like that, though."

Jace sighs in frustration. "You can believe whatever you want- I was just trying to tell you that I don't think he's good enough for you."

I look at him through my lashes. "And who would be good enough for me?"

"I don't think anyone is good for you," he whispers. I open my mouth to respond, but I am cut short when Jace wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him in a tight hug. I stiffen, but secretely crave more of his touch. The eagerness to get him closer to me overcomes all else, and I wrap my arms around his neck and tighten the hug more, if that is even possible. I adjust myself so I am sitting on his lap, surrounded by his warm embrace.

"Clary," he whispers into my hair. "You are the most important person in my life. Nobody will _ever _be good enough for you; you're gorgeous and smart and funny, and I-I just think you deserve somebody that recognizes that."

I am stunned. Jace thinks I'm gorgeous. And smart. And funny. _And _important. No words can describe what I am feeling right now. I have been dying to hear those words for as long as I can remember, and _Jace_ is saying this. Possibly the most important person in _my _life is saying this. I pull away and look into his eyes. I can see the sincerity in them. I play with the curls at the base of his neck and look down, suddenly embarrassed. I don't know what to say. _What do I say to something like that?_

"Just one question," I say. "Why did you get like that? Angry, I mean."

Jace sighs and his head tilts down like he is ashamed. "I was mad. And drunk."

"But you're not anymore?"

He looks back up to me with a gleam in his eyes. "I've never been more awake."

I suppress a shiver, _barely,_ and decide to continue on in my questioning. "That can't be the only reason. You looked..._really _angry... when you saw me and Sebastian talking."

"I just- I don't know why, but I was...jealous, I think. I don't understand why, but when you were talking to Sebastian you just looked so _happy_, and I wished I could make you happy like that," he says longingly.

How can he not think he makes me happy? He is the only person that really makes me genuinely happy. "But you do make me happy. Every time I heard your voice on the phone I was happy. Every time you cracked a joke about my weird habits I was happy. Every time you say something arrogant or self centered you make me happy. _You _make me happy," I say, my eyes never leaving his.

Jace smiles as wide as I've ever seen him smile. His eyes seem to have lost an invisible weight, like the words I just said freed him of a burden. They look lighter, more full of life.

"You make me happy, too. Happier than you can imagine. Could you just forgive me for going all ape shit on you?"

"Well, I guess I could try," I say with a dramatic sigh. I pull back and look into his eyes. They are filled with an emotion, but it's one I've never seen in my life. He is looking at me like I am a work of art; something to be admired and appreciated. Something beautiful.

Jace lifts one of his hands from my waist and pushes my hair away from my face, but he doesn't remove it. He rests his palm on my cheek and brushes my cheekbone with his thumb. My eyes flutter closed, unable to stay open anymore. I feel his forehead against mine, and I have to fight the sigh threatening to escape me. I feel his warm breath on my cheek, which indicates he's closer than I thought he was.

My breathing hitches. I open my eyes slightly to see Jace looking at me. We stay that way for a few moments, not needing anything but the comfort the other brings us. I would be perfectly content to stay in this position forever. But that doesn't happen.

Jace swallows hard and blinks a few times. He pulls back and says, not looking at me, "We should probably get to bed. You know, school day and everything."

My face falls, but I quickly recover and nod. I clear my throat. "Yeah, we need to be ready for a fun-filled day at Wilson Moore."

Jace chuckles nervously. "I can't wait," he says sarcastically. He looks down and hastily removes his arm from my waist. I untangle my hands from his hair and force myself to stand up. I brush myself off, although I haven't accumulated any dirt that I know of. Jace stands as well and sticks his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground.

"I'll, uh, see you tomorrow. Good night, Clary," Jace says quietly.

"Good night, Jace," I whisper. I turn and walk up to Izzy's room. I silently open the door and lay down. I stare blankly into the darkness, trying to make sense of everything.

_What just happened?_

**This was edited to match the previous chapter. Enough said.**

**I'll tell you what happened! CLACE SEXUAL TENSION! Finally! Also, I added a makeup in there. I tried to update since I might not for a few days. I know you guys are probably PO'd because I just ended a perfectly romantic moment and made it awkward. Personally, I think it would be too soon for them to kiss and go out and confess their love and all that crap. I mean, they've only been with each other physically for less than one day! By the way, Clary does **_**not **_**like Sebastian like that. Things will happen, you know, drama and stuff. Don't try and deny it, I know that's what you want;) I tried to update since I might not for a few days. I only want the best for my followers:) **

**Until next time! Love you all!**

**Oh, I also forgot to add...review! Also, if you are feeling extra generous and nice, you can follow and favorite it. But that's only for the people who want to make my day ten times better and encourage me to be a better writer and update faster. So, not really a big deal.**

**Signing off,**

**~ .on**


	9. Chapter 9

**Being sick rocks! Well, for you guys, anyway. I took yesterday off of school, and that's when I wrote most of this chapter. Thanks to everyone who faved/followed/reviewed! It makes this whole writing thing a **_**lot **_**more fun! **

**Disclaimer: The Mortal Instruments is not mine. No need to sue...**

The next day was normal. So was the day after that. We went about our lives like usual, Jace acting like he always does and me, well, acting like I always do. We fell into a comfortable rythym, but every time I forgot about what happened between me and Jace, a nagging voice in the back of my head whispered, _you can't avoid this forever._

The truth was, I didn't want to. I wanted to talk to Jace about it. I wanted to _make _him explain why he did that- but I knew I couldn't. He wouldn't offer me an explanation. He avoids anything that involves giving insight to his emotions-except, of course, for that night. It hurts me that he said all those things. Not because the words themself made me feel upset but because he teased me with them. I'm not even sure he meant any of them, he was probably just drunk and upset. That combination can make people do crazy things. Like actually tell me I am important. How stupid of me to actually believe it.

This is everything I have been thinking when I have time. Everything is quiet, so it makes it a good time to think. I am walking home from work, and my street is silent- or as silent as it can be, for where I live, anyway. It takes me more effort than usual to push open the doors leading to the lobby, but I'm not surprised. The sounds of Mom and some guy...doing _it_ were drifting into my room last night. To get away from it, I climbed out onto my fire escape. It was cold last night, so I just sat there doing nothing until I was sure they were done. To sum things up, I didn't get very much sleep.

I greet Luke and drag myself up the stairs. I know where the apartment is by heart, so I really just stumble blindly until I know I have reached it. As I am twisting the knob, I freeze. Something doesn't seem right. I lean forward and press my ear against the door. All I can hear is sobbing. Mom's been like this before, and I resent her for it. Whenever a "boyfriend" breaks up with her or doesn't come back, she gets hysterical. I know why; it reminds her of my dad. She feels like she is getting abandoned again. I resent her for it because she takes it all out on me. She screams insults, most of them calling me names like "whore" and "bitch" and "nobody," others saying how much she wishes I wasn't born. Once she even yanked my hair.

I take a deep breath and remind myself that I need to be brave. She's my mother, not someone to be afraid of. I push open the door and scan the apartment, searching for where she might be. I find her sitting on the floor, leaning against the refrigerator. Her arms are around her knees, and her whole body is shaking with the cries. I turn around and shut the door, bracing myself for what I will have to hear this time. I turn back around to see her standing up, looking at me like I am the devil itself. She looks awful; her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and her tears cause shiny, uneven patches to form on her cheeks. She points at me.

"You. You did this!" she spits.

"Did what?" I ask innocently.

Her nostrils flare. "He left me. He left me because of you, you bitch."

"Oh. Oh! You mean that guy you screwed last night! Now I understand. I really do feel bad. It was never my intention to ruin such a beautiful and powerful romance, honest," I say, faking guilt.

"I've had it with you. I've had it with all your sarcastic comebacks. I've had it with your bratty little attitude. I've had it with you thinking you're better than me." Her voice started out quiet and calm, but now it is loud and shaky and uneven. "You're not better than me! You're better than nobody! You think you can do whatever you want and not face the consequences. Not this time. You have to pay for what you've done." She grabs a plate from the sink and hurls it at me. I raise an arm to cover my face. I am not fast enough to block the shrapnel. The plate hits the wall a few feet away from me, shattering into pieces. I feel a sudden and sharp pain a few inches down the side of my neck, and I don't even have to look to know I've been cut. I lower my arms, so stunned I am frozen.

She cut me. My own mother cut me. It doesn't necessarily surprise me- I knew her episodes would escalate sooner or later- but I guess I had a sliver of hope holding on to the idea she wouldn't want to hurt me. I don't know how I believed that for so many years.

Mom stares at me. Her eyes are wide, like she doesn't know how she just did that. She swallows hard and tries to blink the tears out of her eyes, but they run down her cheeks anyways. A strangled sound comes out of her throat, and she rests her hand on the wall for support. She backs up until she reaches the door leading to her room. She pushes the door open and slams it shut. I hear her choked sobs as she breaks down. I know she isn't crying for me; she is crying for what she has become. She doesn't feel bad for what she did, she only feels bad for everything that made her do it.

I tune her out as I exit the apartment. I lean back on the door and sink down. A warm feeling trails down my neck, and I remember the cut. Slowly, I lift my hand and gingerly touch the wound. I flinch as a stinging spark erupts. I lower my hand and look at the shiny, red spots on my fingertips. It isn't too deep, but I know it will need stitches. I can't go to a hospital, so I only have one person left I can go to.

Cupping my neck, I make my way down to the lobby. It is dark, but I see a dim light coming from Luke's office. I walk over to the scratched up Plexiglas window and knock softly. Luke looks up from his book and sees me. He smiles and gives me a little wave before shuffling clumsily towards the door on the other side of the window. He opens the door and starts speaking.

"Hey, kid. What-" he cuts himself off when he sees my hand covering the cut, which is spattered with blood. He moves his eyes back up to mine. "Clary..."

"Can you help?" I ask in a weak voice. At any other moment I would internally scold myself for allowing _her _to break me down, but right now I really don't care.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on in," he says, opening the door further. He shoves all of the papers to one side of his desk and gestures for me to sit on the chair. I do, and he kneels down besides me and opens up a desk drawer. I am confused for a moment before I see the white, clunky box with the large red cross on it. In fat letters at the bottom it reads, "FIRST AID." He hauls it up and sets it down on the desk. His hands stop at the clasps. He looks up at me. "Was it...was it your mom?"

"Yeah," I whisper, my face burning from shame.

He nods and reaches up to my hand. I shrink away from him, and he gives me an apologetic look. He gently grips my hand, which is now a faint ruddy color, and removes it from the wound. He grabs the antiseptic and looks at me. "It will sting at first, but this is to keep infection out."

"I know what antiseptic is used for, Luke," I say joke, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughs a little but quickly refocuses on my neck. I smell the sharp scent of the swab and immediately stiffen. He pushes my hair back and lightly swipes the sterile white cloth against my cut, the burning sensation intensifying each passing second. I grit my teeth and wait for the pain to subside. It fades to nothing, and I nod at Luke to continue. He grabs the supplies for the stitches and dread fills me.

"You'll be fine," he reassures me. I nod again and prepare for myself. I close my eyes, and a moment later I feel a twinge of pain and slight tugging. After a few minutes he wraps everything up and cleans and puts the tools away. He pulls out a bandage and puts it on carefully, making sure not to cause me any pain.

He rocks back on his heels, still in a crouching position. Releasing a long breath, he looks up at me. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

I look down and nod slowly. "Mom's guy bailed. She got mad, like always. He left her because of me, apparently. She said I had to pay for what I'd done, and she picked up a plate and threw it at me." I look back up at him and scowl at the look of sympathy he is trying to conceal. "Don't feel sorry for me. I have dealt with this before, and I can do it again."

"I know. I just don't think you should have to," he says simply.

I stare at him for a few seconds before looking away. "What are people going to think tomorrow?" I wonder aloud. By 'people' I mean the Lightwoods.

Luke shrugs and looks at me evenly. "Whatever you want them to think."

I can tell he isn't too excited about my constant lies, but he also knows things would be better off in the long run if I used them. If anyone found out about how 'incapable' my mom is at taking care of me, I would be shipped off somewhere. I see both sides of that; it would be good to get out of this place, but at the same time, I wouldn't want to be cast off to a foreign place where I know no one.

I stay silent. It's a little while before Luke speaks again. "Where are you going to stay tonight?"

I shrug. "Fire escape."

"It's freezing out there, Clary. There's no way I'm letting you sleep _outside,_" he says, looking at me incredelously.

"I've done it before," I mutter.

Luke sighs and pauses before speaking. "There's a cot."

"What?"

"There's a cot in the closet. I know you probably wouldn't want to stay at my place, so I could set up shop here," he says.

I smile gratefully. "Sure. Thanks, Luke. For everything. You shouldn't have to do this at 9:30 at night."

"It's no problem, kid," he says genuinely.

I nod, and Luke dispatches himself to set up everything. After the cot and blankets are organized, I slip off my shoes and sit down on it. I look up to see Luke staring at my neck, biting his lip.

"Don't worry, Luke. I'm fine," I say dismissively.

"Yeah," He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, "I know. Good night, Clary."

"Night."

He shuts the light off and leaves the office, probably heading off to his apartment next door. I lay down carefully, avoiding putting any pressure on my neck. I sigh, cutting the silence in the room. The back of my eyes start burning, but not from the pain, and I irritably wipe the forming tears away. _I don't care. I don't care. I don't care._

But I do care.

**So that's it. I wanted to focus more on Clary's home life and her mom, so that's what this chapter was about, obviously. I hope you guys liked it! Please review! Grazie!**

**~ .on**


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry this took awhile. I had school off today, so I spent the entire day on my laptop trying to come up with something to write before I got the idea. So...here it is! Enjoy!**

**Oh, and thank you **_**SO MUCH**_** to all of those who reviewed/followed/favorited this story and/or me! It really means a lot to me! I have a special place in my heart for all of you. Wow, that sounded cheesy and creepy at the same time...oh, well...**

**Renuncia: No soy dueño de la Mortal Instruments **

Wilson Moore looms in the distance, looking more like a tacky castle than a beautiful piece of architecture. I notice the cracks in the steps leading up to the front of the school, and the wild, uncontrollable weeds sprouting from them.

"Yo, Clary!" a bubbly voice shouts to me, extracting me from my observations.

I shift my entire body, careful not to stretch the cut. I see Julian hustling after me, repeatedly swatting hair away from his eyes.

"Don't."

"Don't what?" he asks.

"Don't try to act gangster. It isn't very becoming of you," I give a pointed look to his oversized flat-billed baseball cap, which is backwards, before grabbing it and shooting off on my board.

"Clary!" Julian shrieks as he catches up. "C'mon, girl. Show a little respect," he says breathlessly. I toss him the hat and he holds it up like Simba in the Lion King. "That hat is like your...Gucky."

_Gucky?_ "May I ask what a Gucky is?"

"You know, that brand of expensive crap that girls like." He sees my still confused look and elaborates. "Spelled G-U-C-C-I. Gucky."

I almost burst out laughing at this point. "Um, Jules, it's not _Gucky._ It's _Gucci._ Nice try, though. I give you props for the attempt." I give him a small round of applause.

He scowls at the ground. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

I finally let my laugh loose and drape my arm around his shoulders. "There's no need to get your panties in a twist. You just live and learn. The next time you need to know something about Gucci- which I'm sure will be in the near future- you will have a good start."

I hear a smooth voice cut into our conversation from behind us. "Tsk, tsk, Clary. You're giving the kid the wrong idea." I turn, carefully, to see Jace. He points to my arm around Julian's shoulder. "If you keep man-handling him like that, he's going to think that you like him. There is no limiting his arrogance after that."

My heart pangs every time I look at him. _What would have happened if he kissed me? Did I want him to kiss me?_ I inwardly roll my eyes. Of course he wouldn't kiss me. Why would he? I hide my inner battle and remember I need to respond. "Arrogance? I'm surprised you even know what that is, since it's obviously a foreign concept to you," I say, loading my voice with sarcasm. Jace opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a childish voice.

"See ya later, Clary!" Julian wiggles out of my grasp and waves at me as he heads toward his school.

I nod at him. "Later, Jules."

I watch him bounce away for a few seconds before Jace speaks. "What happened to your neck?"

I tense up. _Lie_, a voice in my head whispers.I turn towards him, shaking my head in a futile attempt to cover my bandage with my hair. "What do you mean?" _Liar, _the same voice chants.

He raises an eyebrow. "The_ giant bandage _on your neck. Bandages are usually meant to cover things..." He says this slowly, as if talking to a mere child.

I scowl. "You don't need to explain it to me."

"Are you sure? You looked like you needed my assistance. Don't worry, I am more than willing to share my extensive knowledge with you," he says loftily.

I scoff. "Extensive knowledge my ass."

"No need to use vulgar to mask your jealousy." He pauses. "Really, though- what happened to you, Clary?" His tone changed. He sounds almost...worried?

"Skateboarding accident." I shrug. "No big deal. I just slipped on a turn." Every word that exited my mouth felt like a fist clenching my stomach tighter and tighter.

"Accident? It looks a little big to be an accident, Clary," he says softly.

The corners of my mouth turn down. _Why won't he just accept my answer? _I realize I'm being hypocritical, considering I am the one feeding lies. "It _was _an accident," I say, enunciating each syllable carefully. Jace raises his eyebrows, unconvinced. "I fell on a broken bottle. It happens."

"Does it still hurt?" he asks, the concerned tone not exiting his voice.

I shrug again nonchalantly. "No, not anymore. Really, I'm fine. I can barely feel it anymore." _Lie. _

The bell rings, and I realize we have walked right up to the doors. Relief washes over me. I can leave this conversation. _Finally._

"I'll see you later, Jace," I mumble quickly. I turn toward the doors, leaving Jace staring at me.

I take a deep breath. _He doesn't know what happend. Don't worry, he doesn't know what happened. _My self assuring comments aren't doing anything to suppress the panic swelling up inside me, threatening to explode. _Calm down. _

I walk in and head toward my locker. I do the combination _J I A_; it's one I've never forgotten. When I got it during freshmen year I associated it as Jace Is Asshat. I've considered Jace Is Awesome, but I figured if he ever found out I would never hear the end of it. Despite my inner conflict, I somehow find solace in this one piece of information. I grab my social studies books and head to Ms. Renski's room, willing myself to make it through the day.

-..~..-

The first five hours pass surprisingly fast, and before I know it, it is time for lunch. I grab a few dollars and buy an apple and a bottle of water from the a la carte area. A flash of gold followed by inky black catches my eye; Jace and Izzy. I turn towards them and see them heading towards a table in the corner. _The corner. Fine by me._

I walk over to the table and sit down.

"Hey, Clary. So Seba- wait, are you eating _just _that _again?_" Izzy asks, slightly annoyed for some reason that my lunch is less than 100 calories.

"Yes, Izzy," I sigh with exasperation.

"Why? Don't you get hungry?"

_I do get hungry. But I can't afford to be hungry._ "Not really. I eat a big breakfast."

She nods. Suddenly her expression turns excited. "Sebastian is eating with us today." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I roll my eyes. "And?"

"_And _you should thank me. I asked him to sit here," Izzy beams smugly.

"You _what?_" Jace asks incredelously. "Why would you ask that-"

"Hey, guys. What's up?" Sebastian sets his tray down next to me.

Jace mutters something unintelligible, and Izzy elbows him. I give both of them a questioning look, to which Jace responds with a scowl and Izzy just shrugs. I look back to Sebastian, who looks oblivious to everything.

"Nothing much," I say with a smile. "What about you?"

"Just pissed about my 72 on the test in science. It brought my grade down to a C-," he says bitterly.

"Maybe you should try studing. I heard that improves scores somewhat," Jace says in monotone.

"It wouldn't have done much of a difference. Mrs. Wender's a psycho bitch," Sebastian spits venemously.

My eyes widen a little. I haven't heard Sebastian speak like this. He sounds angry, but not the normal level of anger. He sounds intense. Cruel. _Scary._

I see Alec out of the corner of my eye and release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. He sits down next to Izzy, followed suit by a glittery, lanky boy I recognize as Magnus Bane. _Poor Alec. Magnus just found his new chew toy._

"Darling," Magnus says to Alec, "we need to go shopping. _This _isn't working." He fingers the collar of Alec's shirt. Alec looks slightly uncomfortable and edges slowly away from the vibrant boy next to him.

"Um, that won't be necessary," Alec says quietly, looking at his tray.

"Yeah, I don't think he's interested in looking like a rainbow threw up on him," Jace snickers.

"I would prefer sunshine. Rainbows are tacky," Magnus says easily with a wave of his hand.

I laugh loudly at this. Everyone stares at me while Magnus smiles widely. "I like her." He points at me with a painted nail.

"I'm Clary." I reach my hand across the table.

"I know who you are. I prefer Magnus the Magnificent, but I settle for Magnus." He shakes my hand daintily.

"When you two are done with your female bonding, please let me know. I'm about to barf," Jace interjects.

"I see something else that will make you barf," Izzy mutters while looking down at the table. I cock my head and look at her. She discreetly jerks her head to the left. I see Kailee flouncing toward our table. It takes all of my self restraint not to groan.

"Hi Jace! It's so good to see you!" Kailee squeals, completely ignoring the rest of us, as she positions herself so she is sitting next to Jace. _Very close _to Jace, might I add. _I wish I could sit that close to Jace._ She twirls her bleach blonde hair and smiles broadly, but I know it's fake.

"I know it is," Jace replies, looking bored.

Kailee giggles. "Confidence is one of the things I find attractive in a man," she purrs, then proceeds to candidly look Jace over from head to toe.

"There are a lot of other things attractive about me, but it would take too long to count," Jace says with shrug.

"There sure are." Kailee puffs her chest out and bites her lip.

I grimace. "Could you try not to undress him with your eyes? It's unflattering."

"Listen Katy," she narrows her eyes, "I don't know who you think you-"

Jace tries to stifle his laugh but is failing miserably. I raise an eyebrow at Kailee.

"What?" she asks, annoyance prominent in her voice.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just think you should know my name before you rant to me," I say smoothly.

"Why would I need to know your name?" I notice everyone at the table looks back and forth from me to Kailee, resembling those at a tennis match.

"You don't. I was just giving you a tip to make your bitching more affective." I smile sweetly at her.

She takes a deep breath, expanding her large- and fake- chest. "I don't need any tips. Especially from someone like _you._"

"Someone like me?" I ask with fake confusion.

"A stoner. Or maybe that title is reserved for your mom," Kailee retorts coldly.

All eyes shift to me. I tense up. _They can't find out. They can't._

Kailee smiles with satisfaction. "So your friends still don't know?" She looks from each person back to me. "They're your _best friends_, and they still don't know?"

"Kailee, just-" I try to stop her.

"So they don't know you live in the slums? And they don't know that your mom gets high every day? They _still _don't know all of this?" She gapes at everyone with fake disbelief. "Oh, and not to mention the marks." She is talking about the bruises I get from my mom's boyfriends. They aren't frequent, but they are large and show up often enough for people to suspect things. I would be surprised that she noticed if she wasn't about to sabotage my relationship with the most important people in my life. "Don't think those went unnoticed by everyone. We know that the cut on your neck wasn't an accident. None of them are." She pauses and turns from me to the others at the table. "I'm sorry she didn't have the guts to tell you herself, but I thought someone had to."

Everyone is silent. I feel their eyes on me, but I don't meet them. I stare at the table, my knuckles white from being clenched into fists. Slowly, I stand up and walk away from the table. I don't even bother to grab my backpack or jacket, I just try to get out of the school as fast as I can. Flames flicker behind my eyes, but I don't try to stop them. My vision gets blurry before I feel hot tears slide down my cheeks.

I jog across the street into the web of intricate alleys and back entrances. I walk into an empty alley and slide down a wall, my arms wrapped around my stomach. The tears are unrelenting and flow steadily, gathering below my jaw. My breaths are shaky and violent. My whole body trembles as I allow myself to be submerged in sadness.

_They will never forgive me._

_They will never trust me._

_Because they knew me._

_But at the same time, they didn't._

**Kailee, no you DID- N'T! And yes, I am aware that I am not spelling Kailee right, I just like spelling it this way. I don't know why, but I just do. Also, in most fanfics Kailee is really dumb and annoying, so I tried to make her less dumb because I know most people aren't like that no matter how popular they are. **_**Most **_**people. She was probably still annoying, but hey, what can ya do?**

**Feel free to review/fav/follow! I don't have a favorite (get it, favorite?) out of those, I like all of them. So...you know...if you feel up to it...:P**

**Love you all!**

**~ .on**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay, as of right now it is 3:01 A.M. and I'm writing. Still. And watching Ridiculousness on MTV. Mac Miller is awesome...I can't even handle it. For those of you who guessed I have no life and am an insomniac, you are. . . right! I can never get to sleep, so in the morning I am always in a coma. On school nights I usually go to sleep around 12:30. Probably not healthy, but whatever *shrugs* I'm awake and energized right now, so I am taking advantage of it! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: My name's Samantha, not Cassandra. I think you know what that means.**

"Clary! Clary, oh good, you're still here," Mr. Harrison sighs in relief. _Of course I was. Why would I go home?_ I've been sitting in the store for about an hour. After I stopped crying, I couldn't bring myself to go back to school. This was the only place I felt I could go. Mr. Harrison let me in, no questions asked.

"Is there something you needed me to do?" I ask.

"Nope. No, there isn't anything for you to do. Just...take care of the store. Like usual," he says quickly before turning on his heels and exiting the room.

I feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion, but I dismiss it. _It is Mr. Harrison, after all..._

I lean my elbows on the counter and rest my chin on my fists, waiting for something to happen. There is a sense of calm over me, which is odd considering what went on just an hour ago. I have a feeling that calmness wont last very long.

I hear the 'ding' of someone entering the store and look up. Jace is standing in front of the door, his hair matted down with rogue curls from rain that I didn't even notice was falling. He still looks handsome. He'll always look handsome.

I straighten and try to swallow the lump in my throat. He looks at me with those intoxicating golden eyes. We just stare at each other for a few minutes before I decide to break the silence.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" I ask quietly.

"Shouldn't you?" he replies, matching my volume.

I bite my lip and look down.

"Clary, we should talk about this," Jace says gently.

"Talk about what, Jace?" I ask tiredly. I rub my eyes in an attempt to rid myself of the sudden drowsy feeling.

"You know what I'm talking about." He waits for me to reply. When I don't, he continues. "I didn't spend the last hour tracking you down for nothing. Especially _in the rain._ C'mon Clary, you know how big of a deal that is for me. I don't _do _rain."

"No, you don't _do _getting your hair messed up," I correct him, hoping irrationally he will just forget about everything and talk to me normally.

"My hair isn't messed up; it's sexy this way." He runs a hand through his hair casually. "So, how about that talk?"

I sigh. "I have to work." I turn and begin to walk to the back room. Jace's footsteps suggest he is following me.

"We need to talk about this, Clary," he persists.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Obviously there is."

I don't respond.

"Please, Clary. Just talk to me. _Please,_" he pleads quietly.

I sigh again and turn around. Jace is looking at me with such intensity in his eyes I suddenly find it hard to breathe. "Come with me."

I lead him into the back room, kicking old produce boxes to the side in the process. I sit down on a crate and tap the area on the floor across from me with my foot, silently telling him to sit there. After Jace is seated, he looks at me expectantly.

"It's true," I whisper, looking at my shoes. "Everything Kailee said was true. Everything about the drugs and living in the slums was true. I do live in a shitty apartment in a neighborhood filled with gangs and drug dealers. The...the thing about the bruises and cuts was true. My mom does do drugs. It's every day, like Kailee said." I try to force down my shame, but it resists and consumes me. I feel a sudden urge to try to correct all of this, to convince him I _am _a good person. Maybe I'm not, but I need to try. "I _don't _do drugs. I _don't _drink. I'm _not _in a gang, or a cult, or anything like that. But I _do_ live in a place that is infested with those things."

I look up and am surprised. Jace does not look disgusted. He doesn't look disappointed. He isn't staring at me like I am less. Hope blossoms within me, and this time I let it take root.

"All the things I've said to you over the years- those things were true. I never lied about how I felt about things or what was going on in my life. I wouldn't do that to you." I pause, unsure on how to continue. "I just- I didn't tell you everything about me. I held things back. For that, I'm really, _really _sorry. I was a coward because I couldn't live with it. I couldn't come to terms with what my life was and still is, but I have now."

Jace is emotionless. The hope dies and anxiety takes its place. "You, Izzy, and Alec are the most important people in my life. I know that's not how I treated you, but that's how I feel. Even if you don't want to associate yourself with someone like me, it wouldn't change my view of you. I would understand, you wouldn't want to-"

"Clary," Jace says sternly, "shut up."

I feel myself deflate, and my whole body sags. _Of course he's mad. He has every right to be._

Noticing my expression, Jace opens his arms. "C'mere."

I don't hesitate as I get on the ground and crawl over to where he is. He draws me in, wrapping his arms around me, and I snuggle into his chest. I'm not used to..._this_, but with Jace it feels natural. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tight. He rests his chin on the top of my head and strokes my hair gently.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into his shirt.

"Don't be. We're all entitled to secrets. You have them, and I have them. We don't have to tell anybody. That's why they're secrets," he whispers back. "I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, though. That's how I feel with you, and that's not going to change. No matter what, Clary, that's not going to change. I'm not going to change either. I'm staying right here. With you. Where I'm supposed to be."

My heart all but stops, and I can't respond. I pull back slightly and look up into his eyes. He's looking at me with that emotion again. The emotion I couldn't define, but I can now. I finally know what it is. _Love._

He dips his head slightly, and we are so close we are sharing the same air. I close my eyes as I feel the tips of our noses touch. I stay frozen; I can't believe this is finally happening. Even though I haven't realized it, I have now; I have been in love with Jace Lightwood for years.

Jace's hand cups the back of my head, and he tilts it forward so our lips are brushing. Electricity shoots through my skin wherever he touches me, and it burns. I welcome the burn though. It feels _so good_.

Finally, he wraps his arm tighter around me and pulls me swiftly against him. Our lips press firmly against each other, his warm and soft. I unwrap my arms from his waist and drag my hands up his chest, lightly ghosting my fingertips along the way. He shudders slightly and pulls me closer. I loop my arms around his neck and gently tug on his curls. Both of his hands move up to cup my face, and the pads of his thumbs trace the skin along my cheekbone. We keep pulling, never getting enough of each other. Jace removes his hands from my face and brings them down to grip the backs of my knees, positioning me so I am sitting on his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist so we are flush against each other.

Eventually we have to break for air, and I reluctantly pull away. Jace moves down and starts kissing my neck, moving from my jaw line to the area above my collarbone. I moan slightly, and it seems to remind him that I'm still here. He kisses my lips again, tracing his tongue on my lower lip. I part my mouth slightly, complying to his silent wishes, and our kiss deepens.

We sit here, in the corner of a dusty room, with each other in a way we've never been before. It feels good. It feels _right. _This doesn't feel like we are simply kissing; it is so much more.

We both pull back at the same time, and Jace rests his forehead against mine, returning to stroking my hair.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that," Jace pants, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Almost as long as I have," I reply.

Jace smiles widely, and he looks happier than I've seen him his entire time being here.

"Fine, so you do know how long I've wanted to do that. But you don't know how long I've been in love with you."

I stop breathing. I wouldn't have believed him if I wasn't looking at him. His eyes show the love he is talking about, and even though I am a stranger to love, I have no doubt this is what we were supposed to be like. Fate, destiny, whatever you call it. This is it.

"I've been in love with you, Clary Fray, since I got that first letter. I was a goner." He shakes his head. "You had me whipped, and I hadn't even met you yet. When I was finally able to hear your voice, it was the one thing that kept me happy. _Genuinely_ happy. I would drag myself through every day just to be able to talk to you, even if it was only for a few minutes. Then we moved, and I didn't think anything of it. It would be normal- nothing special. But then I saw you. I didn't know who you were, but I had to know you. I had to know that beautiful, red-headed spitfire I didn't know was you. But it _was. _It was my amazing Clary," he finishes so quietly I almost can't hear him.

_My _Clary.

"So now you know. You know how weak I am for you." He leans in so his lips are brushing my ear. "But if you tell anyone, I'm going to have to kill you. Got it?"

I turn my head so we are looking at each other again. I smile at him. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

He smiles back and kisses me with more passion than I could imagine. The rest of the world fades away, and for now it's just me and him.

Us.

**YES! CLACE! Forgive me if the kissing scene wasn't good enough, I haven't kissed anyone...I did have a boyfriend that wanted to kiss me, but he was an asshat so I broke up with him. AND HE WAS POPULAR! I had to do it, though. He dated me because he thought I was pretty. Dumping his sorry ass felt pretty damn good, though! Pardon my French, I got carried away there...**

**You know what to do: review, follow, favorite, all that jazz...**

**~ .on**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hola! I'm updating sooner than I originally planned because of what is explained at the bottom...it's something good, don't worry:)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own them...**

The rythmic rise and fall of Jace's chest lulls me into a fuzzy state between awake and asleep. His arms are tightly but gently pulling me close to him, almost in a protective manner. We've been this way for a while- just sitting, tangled together in the stuffy room. Jace's warm breath ruffles my hair each time he exhales. I absently trace haphazard shapes on his back. Silence envelopes us, but it is comfortable, natural.

"We should probably get up," Jace whispers, his voice breaking the calm.

I nod even though that is the last thing I want to do. Jace releases me from his grasp almost reluctantly, and I move off of his lap. He stands and holds his hand out to me. I accept it and he pulls me up easily. He doesn't let go, and neither do I. I feel an irrational need to stay connected to him, even if it is just from our palms touching and our fingers laced together. It represents so much more.

We walk towards the door, and Jace holds it open for me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"What?" he asks.

I laugh. "I never knew you were one for chivalry, Lightwood."

An amused glint appears in his eye, and the corners of his mouth tilt up slightly. "Nothing but the best for my-" he stops abruptly. "Clary. My Clary."

A sudden anger flares up in me. After all that just happened all he can call me is 'My Clary'? I know kissing doesn't automatically make me his girlfriend or anything, but we definitely don't hold the same positions for each other anymore. At least I don't think we do.

I purse my lips. "So that's what I am."

Jace looks down at me and sighs. "That's not- I just don't know what _this,_" he gestures with his hand between us, "is."

"Aren't I- being the hormonal teenage girl I am- supposed to be the one confused about our status?" I joke.

"Don't you dare compare me to a hormonal teenage girl. We both know that I am of the male species. _Nothing _about me is female." He smirks at me and winks.

It takes me a few seconds to understand the underlying meaning to his words. My jaw drops and my eyes narrow in fake disgust, but I can't hold it. My face shifts into a stupid smile as I shake my head and laugh. "I don't know. That declaration of your love was pretty feminine."

Jace stops walking. I turn to him, wondering what is wrong. His head is angled forward, a few loose curls straying on his forehead. He looks conflicted, but why? I reach my free hand up and brush the curls back, but I keep my hand entertwined in his hair. "What's wrong Jace?" He responds by clutching my other hand tighter. "Please," I whisper. "Look at me, Jace." He lifts his gaze to meet mine. His expression shocks me. He looks younger, more innocent. Vulnerable. "Tell me what's wrong. Talk to me. _Please._" My pleads are similiar to those he expressed earlier, but our roles are reversed.

He brings his hand up to remove mine from his hair so he is holding both of them. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be...good to you. Like someone should when they love another person. And I do." His voice drops to a barely audible whisper. "I do love you. But I don't know how to treat you like you deserve to be treated. I never really was familiar with love." I assume he is talking about his biological parents, but I won't pry. Now isn't the time for that. "This is new for me, and I don't know what to do."

"We'll figure it out, then. I think you forget that I'm new to love too." I squeeze his hands.

Jace looks at me with silent hope written on his face.

I smile and nod. "I love you too, Jace. No matter how much of a cocky asshat you are, I love you." The words feel odd on my tongue, but it feels right at the same time. I love Jace Lightwood. Jace Lightwood loves me. My grin grows impossibly wider at the thought.

Jace doesn't speak for a few seconds, and I start to get anxious. _What if he didn't want to hear that? But why wouldn't he? He already said he loved me, so why would it be a problem if I loved him too?_ Suddenly a bright smile invades his features, stalling the war waging inside of me. He lets go of my hands, and they are cold from the sudden absence of him. He loops his arms around my waist and pulls me against him in a swift motion. His lips collide with mine, hard yet gentle. I whimper out of surprise against his mouth and instinctively fling my arms around his neck. He lifts me up and twirls me around a few times before setting me back down. I pull back and release a high-pitched giggle. My cheeks flush from embarrassment, and I clap a hand over my mouth.

Jace laughs and gently pulls my hand away from my mouth. He kisses my forehead and mumbles against my skin, "Don't be embarrassed. I like your giggle, even if it does sound like a pig's squeal."

Even though I'm not mad, I scowl and force myself to extract my body from Jace's warm embrace. It sounds awful, but I want to make him sweat a bit. I cross my arms over my chest defiantly. "Real classy, Jace." I turn on my heels and walk away, smiling to myself when I know he can't see it.

"C'mon, Fray," I hear from behind me. "I told you I liked it, didn't I? Now get your ass back over here."

I lift my chin indignantly and continue walking.

"Fine," Jace mutters, "I'll do this myself."

I don't have time to brace myself before I feel hands grip my hips and toss me over a shoulder.

"Jace!" I shriek. "Let me down you- you- you dirtbag!"

"Dirtbag?" Jace laughs, not at all fazed by my fists pounding against his back.

"I don't like to use foul language," I answer, partially stunned by the cold, bitter air as he carries me outside. It stopped raining, but a freezing drift must have replaced it.

"Yet you say asshat and shitty and-"

"That is completely beside the point," I interrupt. "Now let me down! I swear, I will...break your mirror!"

"Really, Clary? I don't need a mirror to know how good I look." I can tell he is smirking. "You're gonna have to try harder."

I think for a moment, then smile devilishly. "No kisses for a week."

Jace stops walking. After a brief moment, he sighs and slumps in defeat. "Damn the power you have over me." He slides me down from his shoulder, and I land lightly on my feet. He keeps his hand on my lower back as we walk, and it tingles from the contact. A light breeze wisps past us and I shiver, goosebumps rising on my skin. I shuffle closer to Jace, greedily immersing myself in his warmth.

"You cold?" Jace asks.

I shake my head. "No."

"Clary, you're trembling."

"Maybe I'm just..." I trail off, unsure of how to answer.

"Cold," Jace finishes. "Here." He pulls his navy hoodie, reading 'Wilson Moore Wildcats', over his head. His shirt rises with the motion, and I see a line of bare skin above the waistband of his dark wash jeans. A twinge of adrenaline shoots through me, and for the first time I don't have to chastise myself for my reaction.

"Take it," he says, holding out the hoodie to me.

"But it's yours, and you're probably cold too," I protest, even though I am shivering as I say it.

"Just take it," Jace says, exasperation clear in his voice. Guys are supposed to do nice things for their girlfriends."

Girlfriend.

_Girlfriend!_

"So that's what I am?" I echo from earlier, slightly breathless.

He reaches up to move a curl out of my face and tucks it behind my ear, letting his hand linger on my skin. His eyes stay on mine. "That's what you are."

I smile broadly and slip the sweatshirt on before standing on my toes to give him a small but chaste kiss on the lips. "I like the sound of that." I sigh, realizing something I haven't thought of before. "What about Izzy and Alec? What are they going to think? And everyone at school..." I stop, feeling discouraged. I look down at the pavement.

"Hey," Jace says. He lightly taps his fingers under my chin and tilts my face up. He is looking at me with understanding and determination."I don't care what anyone thinks. You're my girlfriend, and nothing's going to change that. They won't change the way I feel about you either," he says firmly.

My heart leaps. The smile returns to my face, and Jace's replicates it. I lock my arms around his waist and hug him. "How do you always know what to say?" I mumble into his chest.

He sighs and loosely wraps his arms around my shoulders. He rests his head on top of mine, and I feel his jaw move as he speaks. "I don't."

"Are you being modest, Jace?" I ask with a playful tone.

"Maybe, but don't get used to it. It's a rare quality of mine."

I laugh and pull away. "So what do we do now?"

Jace shrugs. "We could go to my place. Or yours..." He catches my expression and continues. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. You don't have to share everything with me. I understand." He chuckles darkly. "I understand better than you think I do."

I bite my lip. I wish he would tell me things, but I get why he wouldn't. That doesn't stop me from wanting to be Jace's one person he could go to. He's mine, and I wish I could return the favor. I finally understand how much we really need each other- not for just talking to, but for listening to. For listening and letting the other be free of judgement. I also finally understand that no matter how much we've told each other, how much we know about each other, we really don't know anything at all. Jace has a past and I have a present. Even if Jace doesn't want to let me in, I want to let him in. If I show Jace now, maybe it will make things better. After all those years worth of lies, I want to be as truthful and open as I can.

"Let's go. But we're _not _going in the apartment, I'm just showing you the building. Seeing my mom probably isn't such a hot idea."

"Why not?"

"She gets...angry. And mean. It's worse when she's high." I try to sound nonchalant but fail miserably. "She can say things that I wouldn't want you to hear."

Something flashes in his eyes, almost like he remembering something. Just as soon as it appears, it's gone. I have a feeling that too has to do with his biological parents. Again, I don't pry. He's not doing it to me, so I won't do it to him.

"She says these 'things' to you?" Jace asks with a tone I can't quite decipher. He sounded rough, protective almost.

"Let's just say...I've had my fair share of insults," I say with no emotion. Even though Jace has managed to break down most of my walls, I have a few that aren't ready to be broken.

Jace looks angry, but I don't want him to feel bad over things that don't involve him. I'm not going to be selfish and pass over parts of my screwed up life for him to deal with. "Jace, don't be mad. She's just- she's not 'mother material,'" I say simply.

"I don't want you to have to deal with that. You don't deserve it." His eyes move down, and his hand reaches up to brush a lock of hair away from my neck. His fingertips lightly ghost over my bandage. "You don't deserve this either. Was it her?" he asks, his voiced strained.

I nod, not meeting his gaze. "Yeah. It wasn't a bottle, though. It was a plate. But they are both glass materials, so I didn't lie completely." I tried to make a joke out of it, but there isn't anything funny about it. Apparently Jace doesn't think so either. The corners of his mouth turn down, matching the crease between his brows.

His hand skims from the bandage to my jaw bone. He stops there and traces my jaw line. My eyes involountarily close. I let myself soak in his presence, his touch. I bring my hand up and put it over his, weaving our fingers together. After a moment, I take my hand away. I know we can't stay like this forever, so I speak up.

"As much as I love standing with you in the middle of the sidewalk, we should probably leave." I open my eyes to find Jace staring at me.

He nods and drops his hand. "Yeah. You do look pretty odd in that sweatshirt." I scowl before looking down and understanding what he means. The bottom of it just skims the top of my knees. I feel Jace lean in close and whisper in my ear, "I think you look pretty sexy in my clothes, though." Heat rises in my cheeks and I look down. Even though I look uncomfortable with it, I love the way he said that. _Sexy._ Jace laughs, bringing me out of my 'moment' and slings an arm around my shoulder lightly. "Lead the way."

I breathe in deeply, then exhale. I am not sure if I'm ready for this, but I'm going to do it. I'm going to trust Jace. If I can't handle this, he will get me through it. He'll always get me through.

**So, if you guys wanted to know why I updated sooner, here it is! Today a guy who I've liked for a while now asked me out. Not in that lame "no balls" texting way, but **_**the real deal**_**. He walked up to me and asked me out! And, if you haven't guessed already, I said yes! He's so awesome, not at all the jerkwad that I used to date. He texted me, so I asked what he was doing, and guess what he said? "Texting the most amazing girl in the world:)" FANGIRL. Okay, you guys probably don't want to know about my love life...but if anybody is to thank for this chapter, thank my boyfriend! He made me feel extra generous today!**

**Oh, and review, follow, fav, all things of that nature...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys! I'm sorry this took so long, I've been really really busy. Volleyball and student council and homework and all that crap. Fun. Believe me when I say I would much rather be writing. To make it up to you I made this chapter a teensy bit longer and made it Jace's POV.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments or anything involved with that. I do own the laptop that I write this on, though.**

**Jace POV**

As we walk closer to Clary's apartment, I can feel the nerves getting to her. She unconsciously tightens and loosens her grip on my hand. I trace circles on the back of her hand in hopes to calm her, but I don't think she even notices.

"So Clary," I say, hoping to distract her, "how did you like our first date? I think making out in the corner of a dark room would count as a pretty good one, don't you think?"

She tilts her head toward me and raises her eyebrows, as if saying, date? I don't think so. "So that's your definition of a good date? Making out after an emotional talk in the back room of a mini mart?"

I grin at her. "I couldn't think of anything better."

She laughs and lightly shoves my shoulder. "Of course that would be your ideal date." Her eyebrows furrow and her face portrays nervousness. "Do you- do you think it was weird that we said 'I love you' on the first date?"

I almost laugh at the fact this is what got her nervous. This girl- who I've been crazy over for years- thinks that it was 'weird' of us to say 'I love you'. To be completely honest, saying that to her came naturally to me. Like saying it was instinctive, almost normal, for me. And it is. "Actually, we've had more than a thousand dates." Clary tilts her head to the side in question. "Unofficial, of course. Every time we talked on the phone was like a date if you think about it." I lean in and hear her breath hitch. "And I've been in love with you for years, so no, I don't think it's weird."

The nervousness evaporates as she smiles brightly and squeezes my hand. "Good."

We continue walking for a few minutes, slowly edging our way into the sketchy part of town. Then again, it's New York. A lot of it is sketchy.

"Do you think it was fate?" Clary blurts out.

I glance down at her. "Fate?"

"That we found each other. I mean, the only contact we've ever had with each other before you moved was through the phone and letters. After eleven years. God, when you think about it like that. After all that time, we finally found each other." Her mesmerizing green eyes look up at me and the rest of the world disappears. "Was it fate?" she asks softly.

I stop walking and face her. I lightly trail my fingertips from her hands up her arms, emitting a small shiver from her. Gently, I cup her face and brush my lips against hers. I feel her lashes flutter closed against my cheekbone, and I have to suppress a sigh.

"Without a doubt," I whisper against her lips. I barely press my lips against hers, and Clary fists the front of my shirt in her hands and pulls me against her, deepening the kiss. I respond by wrapping my arms around her waist and lifting her up. She sets herself on my hips, locking her ankles at the small of my back. Groaning, I move my hands from her back to her thighs and kiss her harder. She buries her hands in my hair and slightly tugs it, which only spurs me on. I hear faint honks and regular city noises, and I remember what we are supposed to be doing. Even though I wish we are supposed to be kissing- God, I wish that so much- I know we can't do this. Not now, at least.

"Clary," I groan, pulling back a little.

"Hmm?" She keeps giving me lingering pecks on the lips and tugging my hair. I need to get this out fast or I just might lose all self control.

I finally pull all the way back so I can look into her eyes. "We can't do this." I'm sure the evident desire in my eyes contradicts this, but at least my voice sounds stable. Quiet and drenched in want, but stable.

She sighs and averts her gaze. Finally, she gives a little nod. "I know."

I grip her thighs and set her down softly, my body cooling down a little with every motion. I look around and notice that I had somehow backed us into an alley and pinned Clary against a building.

"Later," I promise, slinging an arm around her shoulder and guiding her out of the alley.

She shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not."

I smirk at her. "Oh, believe me, there will be a 'later'. You won't be able to resist."

"Have I ever told you that your arrogance can be a real turn off?" she asks.

"No, and I'm willing to bet you'll never say that, let alone think it." She looks at me disbelievingly. "Come on, you know you love it."

She sighs but doesn't say anything. I laugh and tug her closer to me. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't."

"What's with you and all these vague answers?"

She purses her lips, and all the joking exits her expression. "I'm just distracted," she says in a quiet voice.

I look down at her, hoping she will reciprocate, but her eyes remain glued on the cracked pavement. "Clary, everything will be fine. I promise."

"There was a reason I kept these things from you. I just- I don't want you to leave. I thought if you knew what my life was really like, you wouldn't want to deal. I didn't think I could handle that, and I still don't think I could." Her voice finishes with a whisper.

"I would never leave you. I love you too much. I need you too much."

-..~..-

We finally reach her apartment building fifteen minutes later. I would be lying if I said it didn't look too bad. It is decorated with graffiti on the right side, just beside the cracked, boarded up front doors. It blends with everything surrounding it- just a big blur of grays and blacks. The windows are oddly opaque, the glass encrusted with layers of dust and dirt and grime.

Beside me, Clary lets out a deep breath and tightens her hold on my hand. "Home sweet home." Her tone suggests this place is anything but that. "You ready?"

I turn to her. "Are you?"

She nods. Seconds later she gives me a weak, "No."

"I'm right here. I'll be right here the whole time." I squeeze her hand.

She squeezes back. "I know." She pauses. "Okay, let's go."

We walk together towards the front door, and I open it, bracing myself for whatever Clary may be nervous about. She walks in and pulls me in after her. My eyes skim the environment, observing and processing everything in the medium sized room. There are tattered, sunken- in couches lining the walls on the left and directly in front of me. The 80's floral wallpaper is ripping off and the color has faded. The flimsy fake wood coffee table is in the center, holding old magazines and newspapers. The carpet below me is tough and worn, it's olive color morphing into patches of browns and grays from the many years of people walking on it. Dim lighting tints everything in the room a shade darker. I see Clary looking at me anxiously out of the corner of her eye.

I turn to her. "What's wrong?"

She purses her lips slightly, looking confused. "You're not - you're not disgusted? Weirded out? You don't want to leave?"

It's my turn to be confused. "Why would I be?"

"Because of this," she gestures around the room.

I grip her face in my hands. "Clary, I don't care about any of this. It's you I care about. Besides, it's kind of nice." I look around. "It has a real 'homey' feel to it."

She sighs, but relief floods her face. "You don't have to lie. I already know this place sucks. It's kind of hard not to notice how crappy it is when you live here for sixteen years."

I give a small chuckle but stop when I see something. I notice on the right there are two doors. One of them is leading to an office, and the other one looks like a normal apartment door. Through the window I can see there is a slightly older looking man with his nose in a book in the office. His eye brows are furrowed slightly from concentration.

"That's Luke," Clary says from beside me. "He runs the place. Don't worry, he's cool. He's kind of like my replacement dad. Or mom, too, for that matter."

I automatically admire Luke for taking care of Clary. Even if I don't know him, I already respect him. I wish I could have been here to take care of and support Clary, but I'm glad she had someone that she could rely on.

"Luke!" Clary calls, pulling me with her as she walks over to the office.

He looks up and smiles instantly. His eyes travel to me and his expression turns from happy and warm to apprehensive and protective.

He stands up and walks out of the office, striding towards us. He nods and smiles at Clary. "Hey, kid." He glances at me. "And this is?"

"Jace," Clary answers for me. "Jace Lightwood."

Luke's speculative expression changes at my name. His smile returns and meets his eyes. He extends his hand out to me. "I've heard a lot about you. Mostly about your huge ego, but some good things come once in awhile."

I smile and shake his hand with the one that's not occupied with Clary's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm glad you're informed about my... traits." I glance at Clary to see her blushing slightly but with a slight smile on her face.

Luke laughs heartily. "I'm glad I am too. It's always nice to be prepared." His gaze lowers to mine and Clary's joined hands. He looks back up with a serious expression and clears his throat. "How about you and I talk about a few things in my office." He says it as more of a statement than a question, and I nod.

Clary and I release hands reluctantly, and as I turn my back to her I hear her speak to Luke.

"Try not to kill this one? I actually kind of like him," she jokes half heartedly.

"No promises," he answers and winks. He turns to me and jerks his head towards the office, signaling for me to follow him.

He leads me into his small workspace, which is cluttered with rock music magazines and Jack Links beef jerky wrappers.

He gestures with his hand for me to sit on a cot. "You can sit there."

I briefly wonder why there would be a cot in his office, but my mind is quickly overcome by more urgent thoughts. What the hell is this all about?

He positions himself so he is partially sitting on the front of his desk. It's a little bit intimidating, him towering over me. I don't let it show, of course. Things are silent for a while until Luke finally speaks.

"I'm just gonna cut to the chase." He rubs his jaw with his left thumb, looking unsure of how to continue. "Clary's not my blood. But she is my daughter. I know she cares about you- the way she talked about you says that much- but I need to know that you care about her. Her whole life people she's supposed to depend on have walked all over and spit on her. I'm not sure she could handle one more. She can't handle another person treating her like trash. Especially you."

I want to scream as loud as I can that I love her more than anything, but I don't think that will get me anywhere. At the same time, my heart aches at his words.

Treating her like trash.

Walked all over.

Spit on.

She doesn't deserve that. What I'd like to do is track down the people that treated her like that and give them what they deserved. I'm sure it would be fun to see them after I'm done with them, but Clary doesn't want that. She doesn't want revenge; she wants happiness. I know how she feels. I used to want that, but I've already found my happiness.

"Listen, I don't know what you think of me, but I know what I think of Clary. She's the best thing that has ever happened to me. I'm not going to walk all over and spit on her. I couldn't if I tried. So, no, I don't 'care about her'. I love her."

A small smile makes its way onto Luke's face. "Good. She deserves it. She deserves love like that." He leans in close, the smile never leaving his face. "But if you hurt her, I will personally make sure you will be physically incapable of having children."

"Only if you beat her to it," I say with a smirk.

He smiles and shakes his head. "Get on out there and calm her. I'm pretty sure she's having a panic attack," he chuckles.

I stand and walk over to the door. Before I open it, I turn back. "Thank you." He gives me a confused look. "For everything you've done for her. She needs someone like you. She's tough, but everyone needs to be taken care of. So thank you for that." I offer him a small smile and walk out the door.

I see Clary pacing throughout the room, obviously waiting anxiously. She looks over at me when she sees me close the door. She gives me a nervous smile and walks over.

"Well, he certainly didn't kill you," she mutters, biting her thumb and looking me over.

I laugh and gather her in my arms, to which she responds by looping her arms around my waist. "Don't be silly. I would never let anyone damage the goods."

"You can be a real asshat sometimes," she murmurs into my chest.

"If I had a dime for everytime I've heard that-"

"You'd be ridiculously wealthy," Clary finishes.

"True." I look up and glance at the plastic clock hanging on the wall. 4:03. I sigh and release Clary. "We should probably get back."

"To where?" she asks.

"My place. I'm sure you and I will have to explain a few things to everyone." My happiness deflates a little. I forgot about them.

"Yeah." Her face perks up suddenly. "Is Max going to be there?"

I give her a quizzical look. "Yeah, why?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it's just fun having him around. He'll lighten the mood."

I place my hand over my heart. "Am I-dare I say it-not enough?"

"Well...no." I scowl at her and she puts her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry! You just don't have that...childish innocence that he does. It's refreshing."

"You prefer innocence? That's a new one," I mutter.

Clary raises her eyebrows. "I'll choose to ignore that." She inhales and exhales deeply and grabs my hand. "Let's go."

-..~..-

We walk through the streets, fingers interlaced, without talking. The thick silence, almost like a fog, weighs down on us. Not an uncomfortable silence, just tense. Like we are dreading something.

I spot my house and lead Clary in the direction. As we reach the driveway, a small figure darts out the door.

"Clary! Jace! You guys are back!" Max says, breathless from running so fast. He must have gotten home with Maryse and Robert from their business trip today. He swipes a piece of his chocolate brown hair that has fallen on his forehead, and his eyes of the same color scan both of us. "You guys should get in there, Izzy's pretty mad." He pauses. "Well, not mad. More like irritated."

I hear Clary groan slightly from next to me, obviously not wanting to face Izzy's wrath. I lightly squeeze her hand as a silent reminder that I am going to face it with her.

Max's gaze drops to our connected hands and his eyes widen from behind his oversized glasses. After a minute, he smiles. "I like this one."

"What?" Clary asks.

"You're like ten times awesomer than Jace's other girls. Actually, more like a hundred times awesomer." He beams at both of us. "I approve."

I can basically feel Clary's smile, and I can't help but give a small one myself. "Come on, let's get this over with." I gently tug her hand.

"Bye guys!" Max calls to our retreating figures.

"See you later, Max," Clary replies with a bit of forced enthusiasm.

We walk through the front door as Izzy walks into the room. She stops and looks up, her dark eyes boring into us. She sees our joined hands and frowns slightly, but at the same time she looks amused. Crossing her arms over her chest, she speaks.

"Would you mind explaining what the hell is going on?"

**I hope that made up for the lack of updates! I'm sorry to be reporting that I won't be able to update for a few weeks, I am going on vacation and then I have a volleyball tournament on the weekend I get back. I usually write most of my chapters on the weekends, so it might be awhile before my next update. Sorry guys!**

**I hope you liked this chapter! If you did, feel free to...review, follow, fav, all of those amazing things that keep the updates coming faster.**

**Love you all!**


	14. Chapter 14

Clary POV

"Would you mind explaining what the hell is going on?"

I swallow hard. "Hey Iz, what's up?"

She narrows her eyes. "That's the first thing you say to me? 'What's up?'"

"Well what do you want her to say, Izzy?" Jace asks. "I think that is an appropriate greeting."

"I _want _her to explain some things." She points at me and then to Jace. "You too, Jace."

I sigh. "Fine, but it might take awhile."

"I've got time."

-..~..-

After I explained everything behind what Kailee said, Izzy stays silent. Her eyes dart back and forth from me to Jace, looking anything but mad- maybe even curious. I anxiously run my fingers along the soft fabric of the couch me and Jace are seated on.

"So..." she draws out. "You guys are a thing?"

Of course that's the first thing she would say. No questions about my mom, about my apartment, the drugs- _nothing_. Just a question about mine and Jace's relationship.

"Really, Izzy?" Jace asks.

"Really what? I think that is a reasonable question to ask, considering _that_," she gestures to our locked hands.

I send a look to Jace. He gives a small shrug, silently telling me it's my choice what to tell her. "Yes, we are a thing." Izzy grins smugly at both of us. "What?"

"How did I not know this was going to happen sooner?" she asks herself.

"Know what was going to happen?" I ask.

"_This!_" she flaps both of her hands at us."You guys getting together! Now that I think about it, it was so obvious! You guys stare at each other _all the time._ My senses must have been off." She smiles even wider. "This is going to be so exciting! Well, actually, it's going to be a little weird, you both being like my siblings. At least the tension is going to be over and done with."

"Tension?" Jace and I both ask.

Izzy sighs. "You both are clueless. It's kind of sad. You guys didn't notice any tension at the party?" We both did, but probably not the kind she is referring to. Neither of us says anything. She turns to me. "Jace gawked at you the entire night! He was basically drooling. Not that you weren't checking him out, too. I'm surprised anyone could breathe with all the sexual tension that was going on in that room."

My eyes widen and I feel heat rush to my cheeks. Jace laughs from beside me and leans in. He kisses my cheek and mumbles in my ear. "I love it when you blush."

This makes me blush even more than before, and I'm sure my face matches my hair by now. Izzy claps her hands together and says, "As much as I love sitting here and watching your sickening exchanges of affection, I have my own love life to attend to."

"Who?" I ask.

"Simon Lewis."

"Lewis? You're going on a date with _Lewis_?" Jace asks slowly with obvious distaste.

I elbow him in the ribs. "Shut up," I whisper. I turn back to Izzy. "I'm happy for you. He seems like a nice guy."

"He is," Izzy says dreamily. She stays in her trance for a few seconds before shaking her head and snapping out of it. "Anyways, I have to go. You lovebirds have fun." She waltzes away and nearly runs into Alec. "Oh, Alec. You came in at just the right time."

"Why?" he asks.

"Clary and Jace got together."

"It's about time!" I hear Magnus's voice floating in from the other room. He walks in inspecting his nails. He looks up at Alec. "Ready to go, babe?"

"Babe?" Jace, Izzy, and I ask at the same time.

Magnus gives us a patronizing look. "You guys aren't the only ones going through romantic endeavors."

We all stay silent, trying to process Magnus and Alec...together. Finally, I decide to speak up. "Congrats."

Magnus smiles widely at me, showing off his blinding white teeth. "Thank you." He grabs a very wide-eyed Alec's hand and starts to walk out of the room. I hear him mutter, "At least one of them isn't mute."

Izzy turns back to us slowly. "Odd pairing. I think they'll work out, though." She glances at the clock on the wall. "I seriously have to go. See you guys when I get back." She walks out of the room and I hear Jace exhale.

"Finally. I thought they'd never leave." He looks at me, his golden eyes shining with mischief. "I believe I promised you a 'later'?"

I give him a coy smile. "I believe so."

In less than a second he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, capturing my lips with his. A fire is ignited within me and I get a sudden desire to be as close as possible to him. I swing my right leg over his lap so one knee is on either side of him. I trail my fingers up his chest and neck, letting them stop at his face. The pads of my fingers are buried in his hair while my thumbs are lightly ghosting over his jaw bone. He grips my hips and pulls me closer. His hands run down my hips and thighs, making me shiver.

"Robert? When did we schedule the executives meeting?"

We both freeze at the sound of Maryse's voice. We spring apart from each other just as the door opens.

"It was scheduled for Fri- oh, hello Jace, Clary," Robert nods to each of us when we are in his view.

"Hi Mr. Lightwood," I say with a fake smile. On the inside, I am a mixture of laughter and embarrassment.

"What were you two doing?" Maryse asks. Her voice is flat, lacking interest, but is not accusing.

"I was just leaving. I came over to hang with Izzy, but she just left, so I guess I'll be going." I stand up and brush myself off. I turn to Jace, who stood up as well. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jace."

He smirks at me. "I'll be a gentleman and escort you out, Fray."

"I didn't think 'Jace' and 'gentleman' were synonymous, but alright." I turn and start walking towards the door.

"Goodbye," I call to Robert and Maryse.

"Goodbye, Clary," Maryse responds while digging in her purse for something.

I step into the foyer and hear Jace shut the door. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind me and nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck. "We can never catch a break, can we?" he mumbles against my skin, sending shivers throughout my body.

"Apparently not," I whisper. I turn around in his arms and wrap mine around his neck. I only allow myself to bask in his embrace for a few seconds before pulling away. "See you tomorrow, Jace."

"See you tomorrow, Clary."

-..~..-

As I walk into the apartment I am greeted by a strong smelling haze of smoke. I cough a few times, trying to clear the itch in my throat.

"Jesus, Jocelyn, it must've been one hell of a day," I say with a strained voice. For effect I wave my hand in front of my face a few times.

"Look who it is." Her voice comes from the arm chair in the corner. "My amazing daughter Clarissa. What a pleasure." Her naturally tensed posture is now extremely relaxed, loosened up from the drugs. The whites of her eyes are tinged pink, but her gaze still has a cold and judging look to it. In her right hand she is holding a cigarette. She must have been here for a while; it's smoked down to the end.

"The pleasure is all mine," I respond with a smirk.

She narrows her eyes at me."Where have you been all day?"

"Out."

"With who?" I don't respond. "Boys?" Still, I stay silent. She laughs bitterly. "You're setting yourself up for failure, honey. A boy who would go out with you must want something other than meaningful companionship. Something you're not willing to give."

"I'm not going to make the same mistakes you did." My voice is firm, but on the inside I wonder where she is going with this.

"You're right. I bet you won't. I've made too many mistakes to count. My whole life is a mistake." I swallow hard, but my eyes never leave hers. "Let me tell you a story. It might open you up to what men are really like."

"Not all of them are like him. Like my father."

She smiles condescendingly at me. "That's where you're wrong. They take, and take, but never give. They're selfish bastards. You don't know what he did to me."

"What did he do, Jocelyn? Forget the condom and split the next morning? It was sixteen years ago. Deal with it." My voice stays void of emotion.

Her normally dead eyes brighten with rage, but somehow it's contained. "You're a bitch. But if you are ever going to listen to me, now is the time to do it. This is the best advice I'll ever give you."

I raise my eyebrows. "It's the only advice you'll ever give me."

She inhales loudly and looks away. She takes a drag, closes her eyes, and exhales, blowing out wisps of smoke.

"I was seventeen when I met your father. Great guy. Charming, handsome, smart, kind- he was everything. He was one of the most popular guys in the school. Girls wanted him, guys envied him, parents loved him. Out of nowhere he asked me out, and I said yes." She gives a breathy laugh. "I was so damn stupid. We went on a date at some mediocre diner and talked until the manager forced us out. It was one of the happiest nights of my life. He brought me home and kissed me, saying he couldn't believe such an amazing girl slipped by him all those years. I believed him." She ended in a cracked whisper. She takes a deep breath and continues. "Eventually, we fell in love. At least I did. He brought me flowers, stayed home with me when I was sick, told me I was beautiful even when I was in baggy sweatpants and an oversized shirt. He was my everything. My whole world." She bites her lip and takes in a shaky breath. "I was eighteen when I found out I was pregnant. It was a few months until graduation, and I was so happy."

Happy. She was _happy _when she found out she was pregnant. After all these years of her telling me how much she hated me, how much she wished I wasn't hers, this is the truth. She wanted me.

"I told him the next day. I was sure he would be ecstatic. We talked about getting married, having kids, starting a life together. But when I told him he got angry and left. He yelled at me, saying I was a whore and that the kid wasn't his. That I must have been sleeping around with other guys. I was devastated. He never even looked at me again. You can't imagine how- how _broken_ I was. The father of my child and love of my life treated me like I didn't exist. Time passed, and we graduated. I heard somewhere that he moved to New York to go to college and become some hotshot businessman."

I notice how she doesn't say his name. I wonder how much it hurts her to say it, let alone tell me the story of what happened between them.

"I left New Jersey and my family to follow him. I wanted closure. I wanted to know that he still loved me. That I could have my fairytale ending. I was pregnant, and alone, and scared. I didn't even tell my parents that I was pregnant before I left. When I got there, I found out that he got some other girl pregnant before me and was going to marry her."

If my father got another girl pregnant, that means... I have a brother. I've had an older brother my entire life and never knew anything about it. By now my mind has gone numb, trying its hardest to resist feeling anything.

"I never went to go talk to him. I just settled down in this shit apartment and lived my life." She opens her eyes. "Don't trust them. They tell you what you want to hear, you give them what they want, and they leave you. You think they love you and then they leave. Just like that." She snaps her fingers.

"What was his name?" I whisper.

She glances at me, then back to her cigarette. "That's not important. That part of my life is over and done with." She pauses, and I see a tear fall down her face. "Go to bed. I want to be alone."

I nod even though it's only 5 o'clock and walk to my room. I take off my shoes and lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling still fully clothed.

She wanted me. She was happy. She was in love.

She was screwed over and abandoned.

It's ironic how similiar we are. She, screwed over in love and abandoned by the man who got her pregnant, and me, screwed over in life and abandoned by my own mother _and_ father.

She said that once men get what they want they leave you. Jace wouldn't do that. He wouldn't. _But do you really believe that?_ Doubt creeps into my mind. If my father was really all those things she said- handsome, kind, smart- then what prevents Jace from doing what he did? What prevents him from leaving me all alone and heartbroken?

Nothing.

I spend the next few hours mulling over everything in my mind. The brother that I never knew. The possibility that Jace is just like my father and will leave me. Doubt and fear consumes me, weighing me down. I can't stop thinking about the 'what if's'.

I can't stop thinking about what would happen if Jace really left me.

I can't stop thinking about how lost I would be. I would be merely a shell, a thin layer of the person I used to be.

Empty.

**There's chapter 14! I hope you all liked it! By the way, I was going to update on Friday, but I had time today so I did it because I treat my readers right. If you want to show your appreciation for this, reviewing would be a good way to do that. Thank you to all of the people who **_**have **_**been reviewing and/or favoriting and following. **

**I wanted to put in some background stuff about Jocelyn, so there it is. Also...Clary has a brother! Actually, more like a half brother, but still a mysterious unknown sibling! Not Sebastian. Just a hint.**

**Also, I want to give a HUGE shoutout to AlwaysLegend. His/her review (that I got a long time ago) was one of the best I have ever gotten, and it really encouraged me and gave me some insight on what you guys might be thinking. I wanted to thank you, AlwaysLegend, for supporting me and letting me know what you think! It was greatly appreciated!**

**As always,**

**~ .on**


	15. Chapter 15

**Here's chapter 15! Right now I'm sitting in an airport waiting for my next flight, and currently it is 10:24 A.M. I haven't slept since two nights ago, and I'm **_**so **_**tired...the only thing I am able to do is write. My brother is sitting next to me, and he asked me why I choose to write instead of sleep. I simply told him that I have a duty to my fans/followers. And it's true, I deprive myself of sleep because I love you guys so much. By the way, by the time you guys read this it will be more than a week after I wrote this. Just an FYI.**

**Some of the songs that are currently powering me through this airport nightmare are:**

**-Beautiful People by Cher Lloyd (feat. Carolina Liar)**

**-Clarity by Zedd (feat. Foxes)**

**-It Ends Tonight by The All-American Rejects**

***This is an extra note I added before updating. I am offended. You guys really think I would make Jace her brother? I would be a pretty bullshitty writer. Give me more credit than that. I am a HUGE supporter of Clace, therefore I will not break them up. Unless...okay, save that for a different time. But I would not do that to you guys. Belive me on this one.**

"Clary! Wait up!"

I turn around, annoyed that I am going to be late for lunch. I am greeted with the smug face of Jonathan Morgenstern.

I sigh tiredly and begin to walk away. I really don't want to deal with him on top of everything else. I hear his footsteps beside me and roll my eyes. "What do you want, Jonathan?"

"What? I can't have a friendly chat with a fellow peer?" he asks in an overly confused voice.

"I can't remember a time when any of our chats were friendly."

He smirks. "True. I didn't come here with the intention of being nice."

"What _did _you come for?" I snap.

"Just wanted to see how you and Jace are doing." I raise my eyebrows in response. "Fine, that's not all that I wanted to know." He leans in. "How much is your going rate? You must be pretty good in bed to get Lightwood to go out with you."

Anger boils inside of me. How _dare _he say that, even if it is just a joke. He notices my fumed expression and grins. "Just joking, Red. But I must ask," he leans in even closer, effectively pinning me between the wall and him. "What _do _you have that makes him want you?" He candidly looks down at my chest and looks back up. "Obviously not the assets."

"Get off of me." I try to slide out from in front of him but he reaches both arms out and rests his hands against the wall, creating a cage around me. I've never been one to back down. Actually, his actions of boxing me in makes me even bolder and madder. I stand up straighter so our faces are less than an inch apart. "I said. Get. Off. Of. Me."

His black eyes lock with mine, looking cold and hostile. "Who's going to make me?"

I wont give him the satisfaction of seeing me look around to try to find people. That would make me look weak and afraid. I already know the hallway is empty; everyone left for lunch more than five minutes ago.

"I will."

I don't have to look to recognize the voice.

Jace.

I don't want him getting involved. I've always fought me own battles, and this one isn't an exception. My eyes never leaving Jonathan's, I say, "Jace, just leave. I can handle this."

Me and Jonathan stay in the same position. "Yeah, Lightwood. She can handle this." Jonathan's icy breath washes over my face, and I have to suppress a shiver.

"Wow, you've stooped so low you go for girls now? Too afraid a guy will kick your ass? That's pretty pathetic, even for you." He doesn't sound afraid. He sounds controlled, chastising, almost like he is holding his real emotions back and using insults to suffice.

Jonathan's nostrils flare, and he pushes off of the wall and turns to look at Jace. "I'm not the pathetic one here."

Jace smiles. "We'll see about that when I'm done with you."

Jonathan narrows his eyes and steps toward Jace. "Bring it on."

Jace holds his ground. "I'll be courteous and let you get the first hit."

It takes Jonathan less than a second to swing at Jace. It would have hit him in the mouth had he not blocked it. In a swift movement Jace punches him in the stomach. Jonathan bends over, clutching his midriff in pain. Jace grips the back of his neck and straightens him before punching him in the jaw, then a few times in the nose. Jonathan spits blood and lunges at him, burying his head in Jace's stomach and sending them both to the ground. He pins Jace against the floor and punches him in the face over and over.

My breathing has become labored. I can't handle fights. Especially when they're hurting someone I love.

"Stop!" I scream. I grip Jonathan's shoulders and pull back as hard as I can. "Stop it!" Jonathan rotates and slams the palm of his hand just below my collarbone, sending me flying against into the lockers. Dull pain radiates from my chest and back, slowly spreading.

Jace tilts his head up slightly and sees me sink down to the floor. Anger floods his features and he fists Jonathan's shirt in his hands and shoves him away. He stands up and sends kicks to Jonathan's ribs, each one disabling him a little more.

I struggle to stand and shuffle over to Jace. "Stop, Jace." Kick. Kick. Kick. "Jace." I tug on his sleeve. "Come on, let's just go. _Please._"

Finally, he stops and looks at me, his eyes filled with concern. He grabs my hand and leads me into a different hallway. He cradles my face, examining it to make sure I don't have any marks, and looks the rest of me over. "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

I gently remove his hands from my face. "I'm fine. What about you?" I lift my hand and wipe the blood on his chin away with my thumb. His bottom lip is cut and swollen, along with his left eye. A light gray and purple shadow stretches across his jaw line, barely noticeable but still there. "I'm so sorry," I whisper.

If I just stood up for myself Jace wouldn't have been hurt. It's _my _fault, and it kills me. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me against his chest. "I'm sorry," I repeat into the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't be," he says into my hair. "I've been dying to beat the shit out of him for a few weeks now. Him cornering my girl just gave me an excuse." He pulls away and holds me at an arm's distance. His hand reaches up and sweeps a section of my hair over my shoulder, revealing a dark gray bruise on my chest, roughly in the shape of a handprint. Rage dominates his face again, and he looks murderously over to where Jonathan was laying on the floor.

I lock my arms around his waist and pull him against me in an effort to keep him with me. "I'm fine. Don't leave me, Jace." There is a double meaning to my words. I never want him to leave me. Not just now, but in the future.

"Never."

-..~..-

"Ah." Jace winces as I apply the antiseptic to his lip.

"Sorry," I say in an apologetic tone. "It stings at first, but at least it keeps infection out."

Jace laughs. "I know what antiseptic is used for, Clary." I smile a little as I remember saying almost the exact same thing to Luke.

"What are you smiling about?" Jace asks with a slight smile himself.

I shake my head. "Nothing." I set down the bloodied cloth and look over the rest of Jace. Bruises, bruises, and more bruises. I scowl. "Jonathan's such an assturd."

Jace raises an eyebrow. "I applaud your creative demeaning names. Very impressive."

I do a little bow. "Why, thank you. I'm glad _someone _appreciates my skill."

"Not so much appreciates as envies, but you're welcome." He looks around. "This is the second time we've ditched school and came here." He gestures around the back room in the store. "It _could _be the second time we ditched school, came here, and made out. But that choice is yours."

"Maybe later." I smirk and shrug. "I didn't think you would want to stay in school looking like you just got mugged. Besides, we are growing into a phase as rebellious teenagers. It's expected of us to ditch. But still, the bigger reason is that you look like crap."

"In my defense Jonathan looks way worse." It's true. We saw him being helped to the nurses office by his clan looking pretty bent out of shape. An angry bruise covered his whole left cheek with a few dark ones along his jaw, and I'm pretty sure his nose was broken. Blood was streaming down the bridge of his nose and pooled on the curve above his nostril. Although we didn't see it, I'm sure his entire rib cage is black and blue. Even though Jonathan hit him more, Jace' s punches must have been more powerful.

"You sure did a number on him," I say.

He smirks and pulls me on to his lap. He leans in close, and his lips brush my ear as he whispers. "You know you thought it was hot."

I pull back and loop my arms around the back of his neck, gently playing with the curls. I shrug nonchalantly. "I've seen hotter."

He raises his eyebrows disbelievingly. "Oh, you have? Where?"

"I don't think you understand why I work here. It's to scope out all of the sexy guys that walk in and out of here _every day_!" I pause and press my index finger to my chin, trying to look like I am contemplating something. "I did see an unusually handsome one yesterday, though. We snuck into this very room together and kissed. He's actually quite good at it."

Jace leans in, his lips brushing mine as he speaks. "Even better than me?"

I nod. "Way better."

He smiles and closes the small amount of distance between our lips. I have to restrain myself from ravaging him, as I know his cut probably hurts him even now. We kiss slowly, lovingly, and in a way these are better than the frantic and desperate ones we sometimes share. The cocky, uncaring boy many know disappears, and the sweet and loving one replaces him. _My _Jace.

I pull back and give each of his bruises a lingering kiss. "I'm sorry," I mumble as I pull him in for a tight hug.

He holds me even tighter. "Clary-"

"I know, I know," I sigh into his shoulder. "You already wanted to 'beat the shit out of him'. That doesn't stop me from feeling guilty."

"Why would you feel guilty?" Jace asks, confusion clear in his voice.

"Because all I had to do was stop acting like a damsel in distress and leave. It didn't need to escalate into a fight." I turn my head so I can see his face. Gently, I trail my fingertips over his bruises and marks. "You never should have gotten hurt. It's my fault he hurt you." I turn so my face is buried in his shoulder again.

"Clary." I don't respond. "_Clary._ Come on, look at me."

I lift my head slightly, and Jace uses this as an opportunity to tuck his hand under my chin and tilt my head up so I am looking at him.

"It's not your fault. If I didn't want to start the fight, I wouldn't have. You weren't the one who started it. I was. If I didn't do anything he would've hurt you instead."

"He wouldn't have hit me-"

"He might not have hit you, but he would have said things. Nasty things. I've heard him say stuff about other girls, talking about them like they are nothing but property to be used and thrown away. If he _ever _said anything like that to you and I could have been there to stop it, I'd never forgive myself. Words are the worst form of hurting people. In my opinion, anyway." He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on my shoulder.

I pause before speaking. "Jace?"

"Hmm?"

I bite my lip. "Did anyone ever...hurt you? With words?"

He stiffens immediately. I miserably try to backpedal. "You don't have to tell me anything, it's just, I mean the way you said it- nevermind. It's none of my business anyway."

"No." His voice shakes slightly. "You can ask me anything you want. But that's a story for another day."

"Okay," I say softly. "You can ask me anything, too."

I feel him nod. "I know."

We sit for a few minutes, not saying anything. Just being with each other is enough. The simple presence of the other suffices. In a way, I don't think words would fit in this moment. They aren't necessary because we are already saying what we need to by our actions. Right now we just need each other. We just need assurance the other is there. Assurance that they aren't leaving.

"Jace," I whisper. "Would you ever leave me?"

He tightens his hold on me. "Why would you think that?"

I don't tell him about what my mom said. Instead, I choose a safer route that is still true. "I think maybe someday you'll get tired of me and realize that you could do so much better. And you could. I still don't know why you chose me."

"I chose you because you're amazing." He turns his head and kisses the hollow of my throat, then dips down and lightly brushes his lips against the bruise on my chest. "You're kind, funny, smart, _beautiful_- you're everything. I couldn't do any better than I am now. I'll never get tired of you. Ever. And I won't leave you."

I smile. "Ever?"

He pulls back and cups my face between his hands. He leans in so the tips of our noses are touching.

"Ever."

**Still waiting for the flight... I'm about to pass out. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! There was fluff, drama, fighting (all right!) and...yeah, actually that's it. If you have anything to say about this chapter I would love to hear it! That's why you can review stories...**

**Lots of love!**

**~ .on**


	16. Chapter 16

**Just a heads up, there isn't a lot of Clace in here. Yeah, this is a very different type of chapter than those I have previously written, but it is a filler that links to the next one.**

**I'm starting this while looking out the patio door at a beautiful beach in Mexico! Being in such an amazing place really gets me in a writing mode. That, and it costs money to send texts and all other Wi-Fi related things, so I'm completely isolated from my friends.**

**I'm continuing this chapter in the airport **_**leaving **_**Mexico. It's Easter Sunday, so as you can imagine it is packed. My family and I waited for an hour just to have our bags and documents checked, and then we had to go through security- which was about a half hour- and my brother's iPod rang off so we had to wait for him. Finally, I am sitting on the hard airport seats and they feel like heaven. That's how desperate I am.**

**I am finishing this while waiting for my flight to leave Houston. It is delayed because of severe storms, so we are going to wait for who knows how long. What sucks even more is the terminal I'm stuck in. It's **_**way **_**too small to accomodate the amount of people that are here, and for about ten minutes I had to sit on the floor before some seats cleared up. Yay...**

**Anyways, thanks to those of you who read my insanely long A/N**

**Disclaimer: Repeat after me: .on does not own the Mortal Instruments.**

"Come _on, _Clary. We haven't spent any time together," Jace whines. He wraps his arms around my waist from behind me and nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck.

I laugh. "I've spent every day with you for the past week! Plus, I can't skip out on babysitting for the Estevez's. They've been stuck in their house taking care of four kids for way too long; they deserve a break. I'll only be gone until 7."

"Can't Julian take care of his brothers and sister? Eleven year olds should know how to do that."

I remove his hands from my waist and turn around. "You really sound like a clingy, dependent girlfriend right now."

He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. "I really don't appreciate that comment."

I mimic his actions. "I _really _don't appreciate you hogging me all to yourself."

"I am simply taking advantage of the fact that you're mine." I smile to myself, feeling bubbly inside. "Now will you stay?"

I scowl. "Ugh, you're so annoying sometimes. You really think that sweet talking would make me stay?" I narrow my eyes at him.

He stays silent for a moment. "Actually, yes."

I scoff and glance at the large clock hanging on the wall. I have to be there in forty-five minutes, but it takes about thirty minutes to skate there. I sigh, knowing I have to leave.

"Well it didn't work. I have to go. I said I would be there soon." I side-step away from Jace and grab my backpack that was hanging on a chair next to the granite island in the kitchen. I sling it over my shoulder and grab my board as I head for the door.

"You're just going to leave me here?" Jace's voice carries from the other room.

I turn around and walk backwards as I talk. "Uh, yeah. You're seventeen, Jace. I'm sure you can find something to do." I push the heavy door open and step into the sunlight.

A warm breeze caresses me as I set down my board and push off on it. Internally I prepare myself for whatever I am going to encounter. I've never really interacted with little kids other than Julian, but he's eleven. I know he has two brothers and one sister, all younger than him. If they're anything like Julian, I know we'll have fun.

-..~..-

Mrs. Estevez greets me at the door a few seconds after I knock.

"Hi Clary. It's nice to see you. How are you?" Her warm smile immediately makes me comfortable. Big, round chocolate eyes are dancing with excitement and happiness. For a moment I let myself selfishly envy her children for having such a great mom. Only for a moment, though.

I return her smile. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. How about you?"

"I'm good. More than good, actually. This is the first night out we've had since Benny was born." Suddenly she steps back and opens up the door wider. "Come in, come in. I'm sorry for forgeting to invite you in, I guess I'm just a little scatter brained."

I laugh at her frazzled yet carefree demeanor. "It's fine. I get like that all the time." As she leads me further into the small duplex, I notice how there are multiple family portraits hanging up in all of the rooms. In all of them they look happy. Like...a family. Or how a family should look, at least.

"Hun! Clary's here!" Mrs. Estevez calls up the stairs to who I'm guessing is her husband.

Footsteps, faint then loud sound as Mr. Estevez walks down the stairs. He looks very handsome; a youthful, bright face paired with a button-down shirt and jeans makes him appear younger than he actually is. With his wife's floral sundress and loose, curly updo they make a very attractive couple.

"You both look very nice," I comment.

Mrs. Estevez blushes and beams at her husband before looking back at me. "Thank you." She turns to her husband. "Where are the kids?"

"Playing with Benny upstairs. I'll call them." He strides a few steps over to the banister and leans over it, turning his head towards the other level as he speaks. "Yo monsters!" So _that_ must be where Julian gets his vocabulary. "Your favorite redhead is here!"

I hear a chorus of excited 'Clary's as the kids bound down the stairs. As they reach the landing, Mr. Estevez opens his arms and gathers them, effectively stopping them from plowing into me.

"Hold up there, guys. I'm sure Clary doesn't want to leave here in pieces." He cranes his head to look at me. "Do you, Clary?"

I give him and the kids a small smile. "I would prefer not, but I'm prepared."

Mr. Estevez chuckles and releases the laughing kids. They flock around me like birds.

"Do you know their names?" Mrs. Estevez asks from behind me.

"I think so. It's hard not to remember all of them when Julian here brags about how awesome they are constantly." Julian scowls at me, and I respond with a sweet smile.

"I never said _anything _like that, believe me." Julian crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from me, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge my half-amused, half-apologetic looks I'm sending him.

I turn back to the rest of the kids and rest my chin on my fist. I pretend to observe them for a little while, and then I speak up.

"You," I point to Julian, "are Julian." I pucker my mouth to the side in an effort to look uncertain. "I think."

He looks awed. "You, my friend, are the funniest person I have come across in my entire life. I'm honored to know you."

I curtsey. "The honor is mine, great sir."

"What about me?" I redirect my gaze to the owner of the voice. A very pretty girl, maybe nine or ten, is standing to the left of Julian. Her dark brown, almost black curls come just past her shoulders. Round, inquisitive eyes are staring at me with a challenge in them. She doesn't think I know who she is. By her stance I can tell she is tough; her back is straight as an arrow, and her shoulders are set back, making her look older than her age. Her posture suggests she is trying to prove that she is something other than a silly little girl. I would know.

"Maria," I say without hesitation.

She tilts her head to the side and nods slowly, as if approving of my response. A smaller boy, maybe five or six, walks in front of his siblings. He saunters up to me and sticks his hand out in greeting.

"AJ." He flashes me a toothy grin, or partially toothy grin, for that matter.

I shake his extended hand. "It's a pleasure, AJ."

His smile gets wider, bringing out deep dimples like the ones his brother has. "Tonight is gonna be fun. Julian said you're cool."

I glance at Julian and raise my eyebrows. "He said that, did he?"

He scowls and looks at the floor grumbling. Maria pushes between AJ and Julian holding a baby. She has him cradled against her chest with her arms supporting him. She looks like she's done this a million times, which she probably has.

"This is Benny." At the sound of his name he cooes at Maria.

Mrs. Estevez comes over and gives each of the kids a small kiss on the head. "He's six months, so you probably don't know how to do everything, but Maria and Julian will help you."

"Okay. It's good to know I'll have helpers." I give Julian and Maria a small smile.

"Yes." She glances over my shoulder to what is probably a clock. Her expression turns panicked. "Come on, hun, we're going to be late!" She rushes to the front door while putting on her coat. "There's a pizza in the freezer, chips in the pantry- um, Benny needs to be fed-"

"They know, dear, they know." Mr. Estevez puts his hands on his wife's shoulders and ushers her out the door. Before he closes it, he turns to us. "Have fun, guys." He smiles and shuts the door.

I turn to the kids. "This is the part where you kill me, right?"

"No, not yet. That's in..." Julian checks the clock on the kitchen stove. "Twenty minutes."

"Oh, joy," I say flatly. "What do you want to do until then?"

Maria shrugs. "We could make cookies."

"Do you have everything we need?" I ask.

"Yeah, Mom makes us cookies every Sunday."

My heart swells and aches at the same time. It makes me happy that they have such a nice life, but I can't help but wish that this was how I grew up. That I grew up in a life where my mom made me cookies every Sunday and my father gathered me in his arms. It seems childish thinking this, as I've been independent for most of my life, but I can't help it.

I jerk my head towards the kitchen. "Lead the way, then."

-..~..-

After countless half-baked cookies and multiple games of hide-and-seek and truth or dare, it is just me and Maria. Julian is tucking AJ in, and Benny went to sleep about fifteen minutes ago. Maria sits on the couch, staring at anything but me.

"You don't like me, do you." It came out as more of a statement than a question, but judging by her expression she isn't surprised by my accusation.

She shrugs. It strikes me how mature she is for her age. If she was bigger, I would have guessed she was older- older than me, even. But then again, I'm not a good example of the average teenage girl.

"I don't like anyone I don't know."

Touche. "That's understandable."

"It is. Especially where we live. I don't like anyone I can't trust, either." She shrugs again.

I raise my eyebrows. "You don't trust me?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Should I?"

I don't respond. I can't tell her to trust me, a girl she's never met before. She was right about the location, too. You can't trust many people around this neighborhood. The ones you can are found few and far between. For the second time tonight, my heart aches. This girl shouldn't have to second guess everyone. She shouldn't have to hold people at arms distance just to protect herself. She shouldn't have to be like me.

"That's your decision to make. I get why you don't trust people. I'm not a very trusting person myself. The world's too jacked up for that."

She laughs without any humor. "Tell me about it."

I run my tongue over my teeth, contemplating whether or not I should say what I want to. I decide to say it anyway.

"But you're also ten years old. You don't need to be wary of everyone. Save that for when you're older. I understand that you're like a second mother to Benny because you take care of him so often, but you also have a completely able mother yourself. You don't always have to be the responsible one. Again, wait until you're older for that."

She's quick to respond. "You didn't wait."

I take a deep breath and look at my hands in my lap. "I couldn't. I was forced to grow up faster than any kid should. But like I said, you have a completely able mother. I didn't." I swallow hard and look up at her. "I don't."

She bites her lip and looks at the wall on her left, studying the abstract painting but not really studying it.

I sigh. "Look, I'm not searching for a pity party. I can take care of myself. I've been taking care of myself for longer than you've been alive." I pause. "Just- enjoy your childhood. I've heard it's a fun time."

The corners of her mouth quirk up a little, but she catches herself before it turns into a smile. Then she stares at me, her gaze never wavering from mine. It's a while before she speaks.

"Fine."

-..~..-

After spending thirty minutes walking back from the Estevez's, I'm almost too tired to notice I'm already at the Lightwood house. I knock on the door groggily, and less than ten seconds later a small figure opens it. "Clary! You're here!" Max smiles broadly at me.

I can't help but laugh a little at his enthusiasm. "Come on, Max. I thought that was obvious enough to go without clarification."

He presses his lips together in a tight line. "Sorry. It's just that Jace has been moping around while you were gone, and I was hoping you would take him off of our hands."

"Not gonna happen." Izzy walks out from behind Max and loops her arm through mine, pulling me through the doorway. "She's been spending all her time with Jace, and a girl's night is long past due."

"Who's been spending all her time with me?" Jace walks in eating an apple. He sees Izzy holding my arm and his posture slumps. "Izzy!" he groans with apple in his mouth.

"What? You've spent so much time with her this week that I'd be surprised if she isn't corrupted!"

I'm almost amused at what seems to be a fight...over me. Odd.

"How would I corrupt her?" Jace counters.

"I'm sure being around constant sarcasm and arrogance isn't the best thing for her health." She tugs me to the stairs. I look back at Jace and mouth, _I'm sorry._

_Traitor, _he mouths back.

I roll my eyes and walk the rest of the way with Izzy.

-..~..-

"What color?" Izzy asks, wanting my opinion on my nail polish.

Instead of putting food on the table, or maintaining grades- which should be my main concerns-this is what stresses me out. It's ironic, really. But honestly, how does she keep track of all of her stuff?

"Uh, whatever one you think works best."

She purses her lips and scans her very large collection. Finally, her eyes stop on a bottle and she plucks it out of the rest of the assortment.

"This will be perfect." I look at the peachy coral color and agree. My agreement really doesn't mean anything, though. She could have chosen a color that looked like puke and I wouldn't have objected her choice.

She starts painting my nails, and we are silent for awhile. Eventually, Izzy speaks up.

"Would you want to come to my parents' Spring Executive Gala?"

An executive gala? Sounds very...fancy. Fancy for me, anyway. "Um, I don't know. It seems like a bit of a stretch from what I'm used to."

She finishes my nails and puts the top back on the bottle. "Oh, come on. It's super boring and I want someone to hang out with other than Jace and Alec. And Max, but he just hides his comics under the table and reads them during all of the speeches." She starts blowing on my nails, chilling the tips of my fingers.

I bite my lip. "It sounds fancy."

"It is," she says between breaths. "I'd doll you up, though."

"I'm sure you would," I mutter.

She glances up. "Jace is going to be there." She pauses and smiles. "In a suit."

Before I salivate at the image of Jace in a suit, I respond to Izzy. "When is it?"

She smirks smugly. "I knew that would persuade you. I think it's next Friday night. You could just stay over here."

I give her a little nod. "Yeah, I guess I cou-"

"Isabelle! We have guests. Come down here!" Maryse's voice interrupts me from downstairs.

"Great," Izzy mumbles. She looks at me. "It's probably one of her associates; nothing new. Come on, you're going with me."

"Okay," I reply hesitantly. I look down at my black, worn down clothes and frown. This isn't really a good way for me to represent myself.

"Stop worrying. You look fine." She grabs my elbow and hauls me up. She walks towards the door and opens it before turning back to me. "Oh, and by the way, your nails are dry."

"Thanks for sharing," I say while pondering how nails could dry so fast.

We walk down the stairs together, and I hear faint voices coming from the dining room. They become louder as we step into it.

"I was thinking that too, but-" Maryse sees me and Izzy and stops midsentence. "Isabelle, Clary, I would like to introduce you to one of my colleages." She gestures to what seems like a young man for Maryse's line of work. He seems to be in his mid thirties, maybe a little older. He's tall and has dark eyes that look like black pits. Black, but oddly friendly. He almost looks like... I don't know, but he looks familiar.

He smiles when he sees me and Izzy. He extends his hand as he walks toward us. "Valentine Morgenstern."

I immediately tense as he says his last name. Morgenstern. That's why he looked so familiar; he's Jonathan's father. Izzy must put two and two together also, as she looks cautious.

He looks at Izzy. "It's a pleasure to see you Ms. Lightwood." He smiles at her warmly. He turns to me with a questioning look on his face. "It's nice to meet you...?"

"Clary," I answer as I shake his hand.

"Clary," he echoes. Then he tilts his head a little and narrows his eyes at me. He almost looks anxious. _Why would he be anxious?_ "Do I know you from somewhere?"

I shrug and shake my head. "I can't imagine where I would have seen you. Maybe at a school event?"

He nods but doesn't look convinced. "That's probably it."

I nod too, and the air becomes tense. There is an awkward silence before Maryse fills it.

"You girls can continue whatever it was you were doing. I just wanted you to meet Mr. Morgenstern."

"Goodbye, girls." Mr. Morgenstern smiles and waves.

"See ya." Izzy flips her hair and bolts back to her room.

"Bye," I say timidly before following Izzy.

I can't help but think there is something odd about Valentine Morgenstern. Maybe not odd, but there's something about him that perplexes me. It's stupid, as I've only been in his presence for less than a minute, but I can't shake the feeling. Maybe it's because he's Jonathan's father but still seems nice. I still can't figure out how how they are related. I don't know what about him makes me want to know more, but maybe I should find out. Or maybe I shouldn't.

**Oooh! Mystery! I'm still waiting...our flight was delayed for more than two hours. Fun. Anyways, I hope you guys liked the chapter! If you did (or didn't) please leave me a review to let me know what you thought of it! I read and appreciate each and every one!**

**Also, I got an idea for another story. The updates might be fewer and farther between, and if they are, know that I am working on another fabulous story for you all to enjoy!**

**Love you all,**

**~ .on**


	17. Chapter 17

**New laptop: check**

**Inspiration: check**

**New ideas: double check**

**Hola! I am back! Anybody miss me? No? Okay… Well, a few days ago I purchased a new portable computer, and it's awesome! I got an HP ENVY dv6 with Beats Audio. I must say it is a step up from the Acer Netbook I had before. Yeah. I loved you guys that much that I put up with a glitchy netbook. Feel special. It's like going from a 2006 Nokia flip phone to a Samsung Galaxy SIII. But I had to shell out five hundred dollars for it, so…**

**Shout outs to ****a.m567 and Peighton Cook for repeatedly reviewing! Or maybe you don't, but I feel like I see your names a lot when I get reviews. Also, check out Peighton Cook's story "Hero." And just a note to Peighton, it's really good! I love it, so keep going or I will be mad at you!**

**Anyways, I know you guys just want to read. And I'm ready to write. Turner Classic Movies is on, my nails are painted (it's nice to look at pretty nails when typing), and I'm ready for action. Onward!**

**Disclaimer: I haven't done this for a while, so this one counts for each and every one of my chapters; I do not own the Mortal Instruments, just this story.**

"Clary is coming to the gala." Izzy's words are jumbled due to the mouthful of cereal she is chewing.

"Chew with your mouth closed, Isabelle," Maryse scolds.

Izzy rolls her eyes. "_Yes,_Mother."

"You're coming?" Jace asks from beside me.

I nod and swallow my toast before answering. "Yeah. That is if you want me to come?" My question was directed toward Maryse as I turn to look at her.

"Of course. You will always be welcome to our events. How about you bring your mother? I would love to meet her."

My entire body tenses. Not a voluntary action, more like a subconscious one. Jace must notice because he grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it as an offer of solace from the emotions crashing like waves within me. Resentment, bitterness, shame.

I can feel Izzy and Alec's eyes on me, waiting for my response, but I don't acknowledge them.

"I don't know about that. She hasn't been well lately." Not a lie. Not the truth, either.

Maryse's eyebrows draw together slightly. "Hm. Is she ill?"

Yes, she is. I want to say that she is very ill, ill with a sickness she will be plagued with her entire life. But I don't. My pride doesn't allow me to. Sixteen years living with this shame, and I still can't overcome it. That doesn't mean I want to succumb to it, but until I figure out a better plan that's all I have.

"Yes, but it's not that serious. Just a bug going around." The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth. Sixteen years living with the lies, and I still can't get accustomed to them. I'm not sure I ever will. But I'm not sure I ever want to.

Another squeeze of my hand brings me back to reality, but this time it brings with it no comfort.

"The party isn't until next week. I'm sure it will pass by then." Maryse's eyes remain locked on mine. She doesn't look accusing, just curious. Maybe curious isn't the word- she looks like she is waiting for an answer I haven't supplied yet.

Jace's voice breaks the thin barrier isolating me and Maryse from the rest of the room. "Maybe it won't. We'll just have to see, won't we?" There is finality in his tone that suggests the topic is closed for discussion.

I should be happy that he is giving me a way out. But I'm not. If anything, I feel restrained. Weighed down. Maybe I feel so heavy because of the lies being piled on top of me, one by one. I want to expose myself. Bare myself in front of anyone and everyone just to suffer their ridicule and disapproving looks and be done with it. I don't contain the usually suppressed longing to be rid of lies; I take advantage of it.

I look at Jace. "No. She's right. It will probably pass by then." I turn to Maryse. "I'll ask her if she's interested. Thank you for extending the invitation." I smile at her. And for once, it's not forced or fake.

It's free.

-..~..-

"Would you want to meet the Lightwoods?" I don't bother waiting for my mother's answer, I just cross the room into my bedroom and set my board down next to the bed.

"Would I? No, I wouldn't." Her cackle sounds more like enthusiastic coughing as it drifts into my room.

I walk to the doorway and lean against it casually, looking at her. "Jocelyn, will you just do this one thing for me? I _am_your daughter, after all."

I don't know if I should give in to the desperation I feel for her to see the Lightwoods, but I'm not objecting to it. My gut instinct rarely fails me, and it this is the direction it is willing me to take then I'm not going to sit and think of everything that could go wrong. I probably should, though. In all honesty, there are many things that could go awry. Too many, even.

"True. You are my daughter. Doesn't feel like it, though. You whine too much to be my daughter." Gray tendrils of smoke gently blow out of her mouth along with the words.

"When have I ever whined?"

"Just a few seconds ago when you asked me to go to the party thing."

I raise an eyebrow, as if saying, _Really?_ "When else?"

She stays silent.

I sigh, frustrated. "Can you just take a few hours away from your precious pot and _do something for me?_"

She scowls. "I birthed you. I don't think I signed up for anything else."

"I didn't know there was an obligation form."

She barks out a harsh laugh. "Well, there wasn't. But I don't think that attending some fancy rich person's boring event would have been on it."

Of course she won't do this for me. Why did I even remotely hope that she would consider it? Why did I even want her to consider it in the first place?

"My boyfriend will be there." The words exit my mouth before my brain gives them permission to. I almost cringe when I realize what I just said.

This piques her interest. Her expression is somewhere between amused and speculative. Maybe both. "Is he working at the event?"

She doesn't know that Jace is Izzy's brother. She just thinks that my friend invited me to some boring event. Of course she assumes he's 'the help.'

"No." I play with a frayed end at the hem of my shorts. "His family is hosting it."

At this she starts coughing. After a few seconds, with her eyes bugging out of her head, she asks, "Hosting it? His family is hosting it? Your _boyfriend's family_is hosting it?"

I scowl at her. "Is it that hard to believe?"

Still wearing a dumbstruck expression, she responds. "Uh, yeah. It is. I mean, how did you get a guy like him?"

I don't take offense to her words. It's been said too many times for them to penetrate my emotions and wear me down.

"I don't know. I lucked out."

She chuckles. "You sure did, honey. Make sure to keep everything he gives you so we can sell it when he gets tired of you. Won't be long."

I stiffen. "You're disgusting."

She smirks at me. "And you're still a bitch, but some things can't be helped."

"I guess not."

She takes a deep breath and looks like she is going to say something. After a minute, she does. "I'll go. I want to see this 'boyfriend' of yours. But get me something nice to wear. I don't want to go to some fancy dinner and look like I came from a trash can."

I nod. "Not too unreasonable. I'll buy you something." I raise my hand and point a finger. "On one condition."

She makes a quiet frustrated noise and rolls her eyes. "Which is?"

"You have to be on your best behavior. No joints _at all_that day, and no sneaking anything in or drinking. I mean it. If I catch you, you're leaving."

She rolls her eyes again and stays silent for a while. After a minute of silence, I turn around to go back to my room, tired of waiting for her to quit her sulking.

"_Fine._"

I stop in my tracks and slowly turn around. In an attempt to annoy her, I raise my hand to my ear and pretend I didn't hear her. "What was that?"

She scowls. "I said...fine."

"Are you," I put on a fake look of disbelief, "_whining_?"

"Shut up. You want me to go, right?"

I sigh. "Right."

"So we have a deal?"

Deal. I have to make a 'deal' with my own mother.

"We have a deal."

**I'm sorry about the ridiculous length of this chapter! I'm just getting back into the groove and all that jazz. Plus, next chapter will be, like, 50 times longer than this. Well, not really _50,_ but I think you're catching my drift. You know the drill: review, review, and review again. Or if you want to follow/favorite I suppose I would be alright with that, too.**

**Also… I can vent to you guys, right? Okay, so get this. I won an award for a short story I wrote, and 25 school districts or something were competing and I won for my category. So the award ceremony was today, and my mom thought I was going to go all decked out in fancy clothing and such. And I was like "NO." So then, she got mad at me for not doing this one thing for her and all I wanted to say was, "You know what? This is MY award. I will wear whatever the hell I want, so BACK OFF." But I didn't, because I'm a pushover. And I didn't want to deal with my mom being mad, so… Long story short, I wore denim short shorts and an Aeropostale tank top with gladiator sandals. So take that, Mom!**

**Sorry about that. You guys are like my therapy group. I feel connected to all of you somehow. I would love for you guys to leave a review about something that bothered you or got on your nerves today. Maybe I could be _your _therapy group.**

**Another also… have any of you seen Stand By Me? It's my friend and I's favorite movie, and River Phoenix is just so… ooh, girl. I can't even go there. So if you guys have seen it, leave _another _review about your favorite part. I would _also _love to hear it!**

**до свидания (Goodbye in Russian…I think...)**

** .on**


	18. Chapter 18

**Dear Gandhi… I was supposed to post this last week. Obviously, that didn't happen. I'm not going to give you that whole "life got in the way" crap that a lot of other writers spew out, because that's not the truth. To be honest, I'm lazy. That's it. I was too lazy to take five minutes to scan this chapter, and I was too lazy to save this into my documents, and I was too lazy to post it. So, I'm sorry, but I can't do anything about my losing battle with laziness. Frankly, I'm too lazy to fight one anyway. Sue me.**

**Also, this is the long-awaited gala chapter! At least it was long-awaited for me. My computer says I spent a total of 509 minutes writing/editing this. Think about that. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter. I knew what I had in mind when I wrote this, but after, like, the third or fourth paragraph I just kinda said "screw it" and started writing everything that my usually dull mind conjured up. I think this end product is a lot more interesting than what I would've written… It's a lot longer, too. You're welcome.**

**Sorry about my sassiness in this A/N. I have the worst freakin' cold and my nose feels like it's on fire, and I've sneezed probably twenty times in the last five minutes. I'm just taking my inner angst about my unjust illness (I mean really, who gets a **_**cold **_**in June?) on you guys because I know you don't take it personally. Love you for infinity :)**

**Onward, trusty literary enthusiasts!**

I stare blankly at the TV, obviously looking at it but not comprehending the pictures flashing on the screen. We've been watching scary movies all night. Even though it is Thursday, Maryse and Robert had to stay overnight at a hotel across town, so we were able to hang out and stay up late. I think the Lightwoods are way too used to me staying over. Oh, well. It works for me.

Izzy is sleeping on the couch a few feet away from the one I am currently on with Jace. Her light snoring is just white noise along with the drone of the television.

I can't stop thinking about the gala. About how my mother might act. About how she might not act. It's driving me crazy. I don't even know if I want her to come anymore. It's already set, though, so there's no backing out. Maybe I could make an excuse. Maybe I could…

"Clary? You still awake?" Jace asks in a barely audible whisper from behind me.

I'm completely surrounded by him. I am sitting between his legs, leaning back. The steady rise and fall of his chest usually comforts me, as does his arms enclosing me in his embrace, but it does little for me now. He must notice because he whispers again, this time in a softer tone.

"Are you alright?" His warm breath ruffles the hair covering my ear.

I nod. "Yeah. I'm fine."

He shifts behind me. "I can tell you're not 'fine.' What is it?"

I purse my lips and remain quiet for a moment. Jace just waits patiently for me to answer.

"My mom's coming." The words come out as a hushed whisper, as if I'm afraid to say it any louder.

He tightens his arms around me. "I know. She doesn't have to if you don't want her to come. We would understand-"

"I know _you_would. I know _Izzy_would and _Alec_would. But what about your parents?" I huff in frustration. "I mean- they know nothing about me. How much longer do you think they are going to let you guys see me? To them, I probably look like an angry goth girl. Great image I'm presenting."

"Clary."

When I don't respond, he gently grips my hips and rotates me toward him. "Listen to me. They aren't judging you. They _won't_judge you. They know that I care about you, and that's enough for them. I've never felt this way towards anyone before, and they know that. They think that you're something special." He tilts my head up with his fingers so I'm looking at his eyes, not his chest. "They _know_you're something special. They're right." He leans in closer so his lips brush mine. "You're the funniest, kindest, most beautiful girl I know. And you're mine." He closes the distance between our lips and presses his gently against mine.

Nothing can describe how he makes me feel. No amount of words can pinpoint the emotions he stirs within me. There are only a few that come close: I love him.

Just being with him is enough to reassure me that it will be all right. When I am with him I will always be all right.

-..~..-

"There. You look amazing! Wait..." Izzy leans forward and readjusts a pin in my hair. "Okay, _now_you look amazing. I think this is the part where you thank me repeatedly for making you look hot."

"I don't think I want to look 'hot' at this type of event, Iz."

She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Gorgeous, beautiful, elegant- whatever you call it. You can still thank me."

I laugh a little and smile at her. "Thanks, Iz."

She was right; I do look beautiful. I am wearing a simple green ball gown with a tight lace bodice and a skirt that poofs out at my waist and just brushes the floor. It is sleeveless, which shows off my shoulders and the messy updo Izzy put it in. Four inch heels make me look taller even though you can't see them. My light makeup doesn't put too much emphasis on my face. Instead, it makes me look less severe and more simple, which is a good thing as far as I'm concerned.

Izzy looks amazing as always. A deep red dress with a sweetheart neckline sweeps down her figure and has extra fabric that trails behind her. She did her hair in waves, and it looks gorgeous on her. Smoky eye shadow accentuates her dark eyes.

"When is your mom getting here?" Izzy asks, not quite meeting my eyes.

I sigh. "I don't know. I checked on her about two hours ago before I came here, and she seemed all right. I told her to be here by seven but I'm not sure when she will actually come."

Izzy shrugs while touching up her eyeliner. "Doesn't matter. Nobody will actually care if she gets here late."

"Yeah, I guess," I mutter.

She looks at me in the mirror. She puts down the eyeliner and walks toward me, setting her hands on my shoulders. "Don't. Worry. Everything will be fine. If your mom lives up to everything she said she would do then there won't be a problem."

"That's the thing. I don't think she _will_live up to everything she said she would."

"Well...then you can just take Jace and go and make out somewhere. I'm sure that would make you feel better."

I look at Izzy and start laughing. Even in my most uncertain and worrisome moments, Izzy can always make me laugh. Her advice is so simple, yet enlightening. It dissipates some of the tension in the room.

"Come on," she says. "Jace is probably waiting for you." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "He'll die when he sees you."

My first reaction is excitement, but it soon changes into ruefulness. "I'm sorry Simon couldn't be here with you. I know you wanted him to."

She smiles weakly and shrugs. "Yeah, but he has commitments to other people, too. I'm not taking that away from him. Come on." She nudges my shoulder lightly. "Let's go." She loops her arm through mine and looks sideways at me. "Try to have fun tonight, okay?"

I sigh and nod. "Yeah. I will." _Maybe._

-..~..-

As Izzy and I walk down the stairs, arm in arm, I catch a glimpse of Jace. He turns around when I see him and catches my eye, smiling. I feel like I'm in that one scene in Titanic, where Jack sees Rose when they are at the stairs. It feels like nothing and nobody else is important besides me and him.

Izzy sees where I'm looking and sends a knowing look to me and a wink and separates herself from me and walks towards the door. I look away from her to see Jace standing a few feet away from me with a small smile on his face. I walk over to him and try to keep myself from obviously 'assessing' him.

He is wearing a plain black and white suit, but without the tie. His white dress shirt has a few buttons undone, giving him a less fancy feel, but it only makes him even more handsome.

I look up, embarrassed that I was staring so long, only to find Jace staring at me as well. Not hungrily, like I am just another hot girl a teenage boy sees. There is no lust. He looks at me almost admiringly, like I am something worthy of praise. Heat rises to my cheeks, and he notices.

He gently grips my elbows and tugs me toward him. Trailing his hands up my arms and neck, stopping at my face and tilting it up so I am looking at him, he says, "You're beautiful."

His eyes skim over to my pinned hair, and one of his hands lifts from my face and pulls the pins out. My hair tickles my skin as it swoops down my shoulders and back.

"Much better," he whispers against my cheek before kissing me there.

I smile at him. "You look pretty nice, too. Handsome, even."

He smirks and grabs my hands, entwining his fingers with mine. "I do look pretty sharp, don't I?"

I scoff and look at him pointedly. "You really know how to ruin a moment."

He grins at me and shrugs. "It's a quality of mine. I can't help it."

"Obviously." We stand in silence for a while before I speak. "Do you want to go in?"

"Either that or we can stay out here and do something else..." He wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me slowly. I lift my hands and bury them in his hair, reveling in the feel of his lips on mine and his hands gripping my hips.

"Jace! Stop it, you're going to make her lips look weird!" Izzy shrieks from the other side of the room. I pull back quickly from Jace, but he just smirks and grabs my hand again. I forgot Izzy was there, but that's no surprise considering what me and Jace were doing.

"Fine, but I'm not promising this won't happen later," Jace says.

"Whatever, just make sure it's not in public." Izzy flips her hair and walks out of the room without another word.

Jace turns to me with a smile on his face. "We're not in public..."

I laugh and tug him towards the door. "Later. We have somewhere to be."

"Sadly."

We walk to the door and open it, leading to a transformed living room. All of the furniture has been cleared out, leaving a very spacious and modern looking room. It is filled with people dressed in elegant clothing drinking champagne.

I see Maryse and Robert socializing with the guests, and behind them is Max, absorbed in his GameBoy.

"There isn't much to do," Jace says. "We can just talk with Izzy and Alec, if you want."

"Don't forget about Magnus. If Alec is here, Magnus is bound to be, too."

"Very true."

Jace lets go of my hand and sets it on my waist as we weave our way through the mass of people. Suddenly, a gray haired woman holds her hand out to stop us and beams at Jace.

"Jace! It's so good to see you!" She sets her hands on his shoulders and looks him over. "You were a lot shorter the last time I saw you. How long has it been?"

"A few months, Amatis. It's good to see you too." He smiles at her and turns to me. "This is Amatis, a close friend of the Lightwoods."

I just nod. She smiles at him, and her gaze shifts to me. The smile stays on her face, but I can clearly tell she is scrutinizing me. "And who is this?"

"I'm Clary Fray. It's a pleasure to meet you." I hold my hand out and give her a small smile, trying to win her over.

For a second she looks stunned, but she quickly covers it up and shakes my hand. She doesn't look like she is judging me anymore. If anything, she looks impressed.

Someone taps my shoulder. I turn back to see Isabelle holding Jace's arm and pulling him away. "I'm going to borrow him for a second," she says.

"Try to bring him back unscathed," I joke.

"No promises."

I laugh and shake my head. I feel eyes on me, and I turn around to see Amatis looking at me with an odd expression on her face.

"He cares about you," she says simply.

"I guess so," I reply, looking down slightly. I look back up, deciding to be brave. "Why don't you like me?"

Her eyes widen and her smile grows wider, almost morphing into an amused grin. "I do like you."

"Well...why didn't you like me when you first saw me?"

She shrugs. "I thought you were another idiot Barbie. I don't particularly like those types of girls. Those are the ones he usually has. It's annoying, really." She smiles. "You're not, though. I can tell. That's why Jace likes you; you're different. The way he held you... He seems happier around you. It's obvious that you like him, too." I blush, embarrassed, and look at the floor. She continues, either not noticing my discomfort or is choosing to ignore it. "I'm glad he found someone that doesn't like him just for his looks." Her eyes narrow at me. "Or maybe you do?"

I shake my head, disgusted by the thought that I would be using Jace for his looks. "There's more to him. Whoever hasn't realized that is missing out."

A look of approval crosses her face and she nods. "Yes, I like you."

Before I can respond, Jace comes up from behind me and drapes his arm across my back, setting his hand on my waist like before.

"Sorry," he says. "We had to take a family picture. Izzy decided we had to take more because her hair didn't look right." He rolls his eyes.

"It's fine," Amatis says. "We were just chatting." She sends me a discreet wink and says goodbye to us.

As she walks away, Jace turns to me with a slightly suspicious look. "May I ask what you were 'just chatting' about?"

I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "Nothing, really."

Jace opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. His eyes drift over my shoulder, and I turn around. I see a flash of red hair in the doorway, and a heavy nervousness, almost like a rock, settles in my stomach.

I turn back to Jace. "I'll go talk to her."

"I'll come with you." He reaches for my hand, but I pull mine away. His eyes flash with hurt for just a second, but he covers it quickly. I sigh tiredly. I didn't mean for him to get the wrong idea. As an apology, I reach out and enclose his hand in mine.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I just... I need to go talk to her for a second. Alone. I'll bring her over afterwards to meet you. I just want to... check in on her." _Check in on her._ It sounds so childish.

Jace nods. "I'll see you soon, love."

The smallest smile etches itself on my face. "Love?"

Jace grins lopsidedly and shrugs. "It's a pretty fitting word, don't you think?" His eyes lower to my lips, and he leans in until the space between us is nonexistent.

All too soon, I have to pull away. "I'll just be a few minutes," I whisper against his cheek and peck him lightly on the lips.

As I slip through the bodies my anxiety begins to bubble in my stomach. This feeling is all too familiar. It's nauseating, and tiring, and I'm _sick_of being this way- of being so weak.

I've always resented my mother. I have good reason to, but this time I resent her for the effect she has on me. Something as simple as meeting my friends makes me feel like I'm going to vomit. She shouldn't make me feel this way. But I let her. I should resent myself for that, in part, too. And I do.

The dark red curls that were once just a blur come into focus. Her back is turned toward the foyer, and her posture is straight and...not tense, but alert. Like she is on edge. I don't blame her- I was the exact same way I stepped foot into this grand building that could barely be classified as a house.

Cautiously, trying not to startle her, I reach out and rest my hand on her shoulder. She starts and spins around.

"Oh," she breathes out. "It's just you."

"Yes, it is. I'm not quite sure why you would be so freaked out, though. I'm pretty sure the people here aren't serial killers or rapists."

She scowls, but doesn't say anything.

"You look nice," I comment.

She does. A midnight blue shimmery gown makes the red in her hair pop and her eyes a shade darker. I wouldn't have picked it out, but Isabelle said it would look nice based on how I described her. As usual, Isabelle's taste has not disappointed me.

"Thank you," she says flatly.

I do a quick evaluation; I check her eyes, her stance, and her overall focus. She seems fine. The rock gets smaller and less noticeable.

"When do I meet him?"

I stop scanning her and raise my eyes to meet hers. "What?"

"When do I meet him?"

My eyebrows draw together slightly in confusion before I realize what she means. Jace. The rock in my stomach gets larger and heavier.

"Well..." I can't put this off. She's here, and so is he. This can't wait. "Come with me."

I don't wait for her reply as I turn away and walk into the wall of bodies once again. I mutter quiet apologies as I bump and pass people, but they don't seem to notice. Finally, I see Jace, Izzy, Alec, and Magnus crowded close to the wall, talking to each other.

Before they see me, I abruptly turn around.

"Look," I say, "you have to be nice to them. Pull out whatever manners you have left and use them. If you're mean to them..." I sigh. "Just... don't be."

She purses her lips. "Fine."

As I turn towards the group, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look back.

"His name?"

"Jace," I reply before walking towards them.

Jace sees me and smiles, extending a hand out for me to hold. I grasp it tightly; it is the only thing keeping me stable.

"Everyone," I begin, "this is my mom." I look at her. "This is Izzy, Alec, Magnus, and Jace."

Everyone wears polite smiles as I introduce them. I can only hope my mother does the same. Jace must figure that she won't speak first, so he takes it upon himself.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ms. Fray." Jace holds out the hand that doesn't hold mine.

She gives him a small, tight smile before shaking his hand. "Same."

She eyes him speculatively, taking in his appearance and demeanor. There is no doubt she is wondering how I got someone like him. This I cannot dispute her on.

"So you're Jace," she says.

"That I am," he replies.

"You're…" She stops abruptly, searching for words. "You're not what I expected."

"I hope I don't disappoint," Jace says.

She shrugs. "I guess not."

I send her a look that clearly says 'be nice' and look back towards the group. They all seem very unsure of what to say. I don't blame them; half the time I talk to her I don't know what to say.

Nobody speaks. The silence becomes oppressing, like every second that passes by presses down on us. Or maybe just me.

I look to Izzy for help. She seems to understand what I am saying- or eyeing- and she talks.

"You and Clary look a lot alike," she comments.

I shoot her a look that says, _Really? That's all you could come up with?_ She just gives a small shrug that I interpret as, _What am I supposed to say?_

"I suppose so," Jocelyn answers. "That's generally what happens when you have a child."

Her tone isn't snarky, but it isn't warm either. I glare at her, but she doesn't acknowledge it.

Izzy just laughs, but it's forced. "I see she got her wit from you, too."

I can tell Izzy is trying to keep the mood light, but I'm still mad. Things are going fine, but I don't want the entire meeting to go like this. My irritation overcomes my common sense.

"Did you leave your manners at home?" I ask her in a low voice. "Oh, wait. There wouldn't be anything to leave."

She sneers at me condescendingly. "You're so childish, Clarissa."

I bark out a sarcastic laugh. "That's pretty ironic, coming from _you._"

I'm mad, but not mad enough to not notice the silence among the group. I feel eyes on me, but no one makes a move to stop this. I don't either. I shouldn't stop it anyways; this is the mother they've heard of, the one they were expecting. So this is the one they will see. What was I thinking in the first place? I was going to come and introduce my Martha Stewart mother?

"Listen to me, you little-"

"Hey, let's go dance, Clary," Jace says.

It's only now that I notice the music playing. Jace tugs me towards the center of the floor, not waiting for my answer, and draws me into his chest. I let my head fall forward onto his shoulder and wrap my arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," I say into his shoulder. "I spent the past week thinking about how to make this go well, and I was the one that screwed it up. I just- I got mad. She's just so-"

"I get it," Jace mumbles into my hair. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

I lift my head and look into his eyes. They are understanding and kind, and in moments like these, I know I don't deserve Jace. I'll never deserve Jace.

"I love you," I whisper.

He rests his forehead against mine. "I love you more."

I grin. "Not possible."

I feel him smile against my cheek. "Oh, I think it's very possible."

I tilt my head and touch my lips gently against his. Every person, every sound fades away, and it's just us.

I never imagined I would become a lovestruck teenage girl. Never in my life I would have thought I would be kissing the man I loved, much less a man who loved _me._ I still can't bring myself to be used to this happiness, this love. In all honesty, I don't think I ever will. That only makes it better.

-..~..-

My eyes wander to the hallway more than once. I try to keep myself occupied, to keep myself involved in the conversation surrounding me, but I can't help but focus on my mother doing who knows what in the bathroom. I sound more than paranoid, as she repeatedly promised she wouldn't do anything, but trusting her has been a mistake I have made too many times. I have decided to not make that mistake anymore.

"This is _so boring!_" Izzy's drawn out whine pulls me back to the group of people around me.

"I don't understand why you feel the need to voice that thought, Iz; we're all suffering here," Jace says.

"Well _I_don't understand why such a sucky event like this would exist. I mean, really- there's no DJ, no hot guys-"

Jace coughs, effectively stopping Izzy from continuing her complaint.

He smirks at her. "I would say there are hot guys here. Well, one, to be exact."

"Really? Where?" I ask innocently.

He loops his arm around my waist and pulls me towards him. "Ha-ha, Fray. You're too funny." He lowers his head, and his mouth brushes my ear. "You know _exactly_who I'm talking about. You're very… _acquainted_ with him."

My cheeks burn, and Izzy notices. She raises an eyebrow at both of us.

"Do I even want to know what he said?" she asks.

I open my mouth to respond, but another voice cuts me off.

"Hello, kids. Enjoying the party?" I turn around to see Mr. Morgenstern, the owner of the slightly sarcastic voice. He smiles at us, obviously sensing our discontent with the event.

"I wouldn't say _enjoying_is the word," Alec mumbles from beside Magnus.

Mr. Morgenstern smiles again. "I understand. This isn't the most… lively party I've been to. I'm sure it isn't yours, either."

Izzy scoffs. "Far from it."

"I'm glad I didn't bring Jonathan." I refrain from saying 'we are, too.' "He doesn't usually enjoy these types of things, even with your company. No offense towards your parents, though." He looks at Jace, Izzy, and Alec. "I appreciate all of the work they put into these events. I know I couldn't do it." He chuckles.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a different woman step into the bathroom. Jocelyn must have left while I wasn't watching. I look around casually, trying to find that dark red amidst the pale blondes and brunettes. A slight panicky feeling appears in my stomach when I can't find her. I scan the crowd again, and again, and again-

"Clarissa, what are you looking for?"

I jump a little and spin around in Jace's arms to face the voice. Jocelyn's scowling face greets me.

"Nothing," I lie.

"Who are you talking to?" She nods toward Mr. Morgenstern's turned back. He's too occupied with talking to Izzy, Alec, and Magnus to notice us behind him.

"That's Valentine Morgenstern. He works for my parents," Jace answers.

Her eyes widen; her face goes slack.

"What is it?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't answer.

I glance at Jace, hoping he can help me somehow, but he seems as confused as I am.

"What's wrong?" I try again.

She blinks a few times and focuses her eyes on us.

"Did you say…Valentine Morgenstern?"

"Yes, he did," I reply slowly. "Why?"

Her eyes shift over my shoulder and narrow. Her features compose, and she is suddenly closed off and indifferent. Her eyes tell a different story, though. They look almost… sad. Jace and I both turn around to see Mr. Morgenstern staring at the woman next to us.

"Jocelyn," he breathes. His mouth hangs open, his posture sags, and for a moment, he looks years older than he is. "Jocelyn…"

"You two…know each other?" I ask. How would a man like him know my mother?

"You could say that," Jocelyn answers. I notice that unlike Mr. Morgenstern, she shows no emotion at all. Her voice is flat, and her features are stoic.

"How?" I almost don't want to know the answer to my question.

Her eyes dart to mine, but they quickly resume looking at Mr. Morgenstern. I look between them, waiting for one of them to speak, but neither does.

"How?" I demand. I'm tired of waiting; I need answers.

Jocelyn's eyes lock on mine, cold and piercing. "Why don't you ask your father?"

**Do what you wonderful people do. I'm talking about reviewing and stuff, if you didn't get the very obvious gist. Damn it, my sassiness is showing. I better get out of here before I start cyber-poking you or something. Review and I might just procrastinate being lazy a little bit in order to update more quickly.**

**~ .on**


	19. Chapter 19

**Yay! I got a (mostly) positive response for the last chapter, but the majority of you were anxious about the cliffy. Well, I don't give you guys that many cliff hangers (in my opinion), and I think that one was necessary. If I hadn't stopped it there, the chapter would have been over six thousand words I think. Sorry, but that's not my thing. Anyway, thank you all SO SO much for the reviews and other alerts I got! I was kind of nervous about that one and you made me feel so much better! As a reward, I tried to make this one a little longer than normal.**

**Whoa. 200 followers? When I saw that I almost shit a brick. Or maybe I did. I don't remember. I remember screaming, and then it's all a blur…it's kind of like remembering your night the next day during a hangover, only my head isn't pounding and when I finally came out of my stupor I didn't empty the contents of my stomach in an acidic form. But I really wouldn't know much about hangovers or getting drunk; I'm not even fifteen…**

**Also, I really want to thank ****thecoloroftheskymakesmehappy**** for the best PM I've ever gotten. She (guessing it's a girl) was very encouraging of my story, and she gave me the inspiration to write. Honestly, I got three chapters done that night. So thank you, thecoloroftheskymakesmehappy. You make writing awesome :)**

**Anyhoo, read like you want to. Go ahead, I don't care.**

"My father? What are you…?"

It takes me a moment to process it all. I hear shocked gasps from the group, but I don't make any noise at all. I remain staring blankly at the two people in front of me. Slowly, the pieces come together.

Valentine Morgenstern is the father I never knew.

Jonathan Morgenstern is the brother I never knew.

Half of my life was a mystery. Until now.

It's funny; I've always wanted to figure out all the unknowns in my life. Now that I have, I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd never found out who the rest of my family is. As sick as that sounds, it's true.

I can vaguely hear Jace talking to me, whispering concerned nothings in my ear. I can barely feel his tightening hold on my waist.

I focus my eyes on Mr. Morgenstern. Actually, I don't know what to call him now. He is not my father, so 'Dad' wouldn't be appropriate. But Mr. Morgenstern doesn't feel right either.

"He's my father?" My question is a small, weak, cracked whisper. Just as small and weak and cracked as I am.

"No. Don't call him that," Jocelyn answers. "He doesn't deserve that title."

I notice that I am not the only one affected by this revelation. Mr. Morgenstern's expression is conflicted. His face portrays regret, sadness, apologies. He removes his eyes from Jocelyn's hard glare and settles them on mine instead.

"You're my daughter…" He doesn't sound surprised. Well, he does, but not _that _surprised. His tone obviously snaps something in Jocelyn.

"You're not her father, so she is not your daughter," Jocelyn spits. "You are nothing to her, as you are nothing to me."

"Jocelyn-"

"No. No, I can't." She swallows hard, and I see her eyes glistening. It hurts me to see her like this. My entire life she has been just a shell. A shell with no feelings at all. But this… She blinks a few times and sets her jaw. "I'm leaving."

She turns around and immerses herself in the crowd of people. I notice they are oblivious to what is going on. It almost makes me mad that they are so nonchalant, but I'm too numb to be mad. Honestly, I don't really want to continue this talk. I want to push this whole mess away and ignore it like the child I am. I'm used to pretending, but there's no pretending now.

"Clary, I…" My 'father' starts.

"Don't. Just… don't. You don't need to say anything." My words sound tired, which makes sense since my brain is clouded and muddled.

I feel the burning behind my eyes, and I hate myself for letting this hurt me. I never even knew him, so why am I upset? I have no right to cry over something I've always known about. I've always known that my father abandoned me, so why am I in such shock?

"Clary-"

Jace moves his hand up and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling him tight to his side. "Don't. You've done enough," he answers for me. He guides me to the doors, not stopping for Izzy, who is trying to ask me questions, or Alec, who is wondering if I'm alright.

I'm obviously not alright.

I can't see anything through my blurred vision due to the tears. I can tell we are in another room when I hear a door shut and the sounds from the party quiets. Quietly, I step away from him and turn away. Hurting him is the last thing I want to do, but I can't be close to him. I need to depend on myself to keep it together. My arms curl around my stomach tightly, like I have a physicalneed to be held together, like pieces are falling off of me. I duck my head in shame. Jace is always strong. He deserves someone with equal strength. Someone that's not like me.

So I say nothing. Jace says nothing. I just stand there with my arms wrapped around my stomach, staring at the floor.

I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and my body starts to tremble with suppressed sobs. Jace steps in front of me and draws me into his chest. That's my breaking point. Feeling him around me, enveloping me, is my breaking point. I shake and cry loudly, not able to compose myself. I curl my arms around his waist and pull him as close to me as I can. I don't know why, but now instead of him being away from me, I need him touching me. He stays silent, just stroking my hair and back gently.

"I'm sorry," I say when I'm able to talk. Tears are still falling down my cheeks, but the loud sobs have withered. "I shouldn't be crying."

"If you need to cry, then you should cry," he whispers.

I shake my head against his chest. "I hate crying, though."

Surprisingly, he laughs softly. "Then don't cry." He tilts my face up and wipes the tears with his thumbs. "I hate it when you cry, too."

I smile weakly and rest my forehead on his shoulder. In one motion, Jace slips one arm across my shoulder and one below my knees and hoists me up.

"Where are we going?" I ask, but I don't protest.

"My room."

I lay my head on his chest and close my eyes. It's exhausting. _Life_ is exhausting.

I let it soak in. I just met the father that abandoned me. The numbness, the shock-it's all gone and replaced by a burning anger.

Valentine Morgenstern is a successful man. He probably lives in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where drug deals aren't going on down the block. The type of neighborhood where things like drug deals aren't imaginable.

He probably gets Jonathan whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. Jonathan has probably never had to work a day in his life. Never had to experience the stress and anxiety being the provider brings you. He's a carefree teenager-something I should be.

But because of Valentine Morgenstern I am not.

_I _could have grown up in a nice house in a nice neighborhood where I thought drug deals were unimaginable. _I _could have grown up getting whatever I wanted. _I _could have grown up without a day's work on my hands.

But because of Valentine Morgenstern I did not.

If he hadn't abandoned his pregnant girlfriend, Jocelyn and I wouldn't be the way we are. Her, cold and hostile, and me, guarded and untrusting. If he just took responsibility, I could have grown up normal.

Jace walks over to the bed and sets me down gently. He crouches down and brushes a stray lock of hair from my face. He doesn't ask me if I'm okay; he just keeps caressing my cheek. I lift my hand and enclose his in mine.

"Lay with me," I whisper. At any other time, I would be mortified that I just asked a boy to lay in bed with me. But I don't care, and apparently, neither does Jace.

He complies and silently slips off his shoes and jacket before sliding onto the bed next to me. He gently holds me in his arms so I have an arm draped across his waist and my head is lying on his chest. His light rubbing on my back helps soothe me some, but I can still feel the wet fabric of his shirt on my cheek from where my tears landed.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

"Clary," he says firmly, "stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

"I shouldn't cry. I shouldn't be crying over _him._ But I can't help it." Once again, my body burns with rage. I notice how sadness and even numbness can make you feel cold and hollow, but anger makes you feel scalding with rage. "I can't help but cry for my father. How could he… how could he have just _left _me like that? Before I was even born he decided he didn't want me. How could he do that? I would never leave my child. Ever. But he left me with my screwed up mother to live my screwed up life while he had another family like we didn't even exist. I… I hate him!" I could barely finish my sentence before my sobs escaped me. Why am I like this? Why can't I be strong like Jace? I will myself to stop, to be unaffected, but I can't.

"Have I ever told you about my family?" Jace whispers when my cries quiet a little.

I peer up at him and blink a few times. Why is he asking me about the Lightwoods? Or did he mean… his biological family. Now that I think of it, he's never talked about them. I always assumed he had a reason not to, so I let it be. "No," I say between sniffles, "you haven't."

He looks down at me, a hint of something in his eyes. Sadness? No, it's different. Almost, but still different. "Would you like me to?"

I don't want to intrude on what is obviously a sensitive subject in his life, but I can also sense that this is something he _wants _to do. I wouldn't be intruding; I would be receiving whatever he _wants_ to share. I nod against his chest.

"Okay," he whispers.

I can tell his mood has changed, and for a second, I'm not sure I want to hear this.

**Jace POV**

I shut my eyes, desperately wanting to rid myself of the memories assaulting me. Wanting to rid myself of the nightmares that plague me. I _need _to do this. Clary has opened herself to me, maybe not willingly, but she's done it. She trusts me enough to let me see the cracked part of her that she keeps hidden at all costs. I'll do this for both her and me.

"It's okay." Clary brushes her knuckles over my cheekbone. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

I shake my head and swallow hard. "I do," I whisper.

Clary is silent, giving me the option to start whenever I want. I take a few deep breaths to regulate my breathing and begin.

"My dad - to put it nicely - wasn't good to me or my mom. But he wasn't always that way. We did normal things, like going to the park, or throwing the football back and forth. We were happy. We were a good family. A normal family." I pause, remembering when my life was like any other child's - joyful and easy and carefree. Then I remember when that all changed.

"When I was around seven he lost his job. At first things weren't so bad. My mom just got another low paying job to make ends meet while my dad went searching for work. She had faith he would pull through. I had faith he would pull through." I stop and take in a breath, resentment towards him spreading in my chest like an angry rash. "But he never did."

"A few months went by, and he started coming home later and later. We just assumed that he was busy chasing down offers and meeting with possible employers. Deep down I guess we knew that wasn't the case, but we were desperate. We needed something to hold on to.

"One night he came home smelling like cheap beer and cigarette smoke. That didn't bother my mom as much as the smudge of lipstick on his chin. My mom didn't wear lipstick.

"She confronted him, asking where he was and who he was with. He didn't answer, but she kept asking. I knew she should have stopped; I could see him getting angrier and angrier. I didn't say anything, though. I should have, but I didn't. Finally, he snapped. He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall. He said she had no right to question him, that she was pathetic and didn't know her place. We stayed at a motel that night. When we came back, he apologized over and over again. He said he was stressed because of everything he had been doing to keep our family together. He said he'd never do it again. She believed him, and nothing happened for a little while.

"He started coming home late again, not even bothering to clean himself up. My mom never asked him why again, but he still got mad. He called her too many names to count. Everything he said to her was demeaning and hurtful. And she gave in to it. She stopped responding to both him and me, and she looked... dead. Her eyes were dull, like there was no life inside them. Maybe there wasn't. She abandoned me mentally and emotionally. When my dad didn't bother with her anymore, he switched to me. He said he didn't know why he even wanted a kid, let alone one as worthless as me. He said I would amount to shit."

I feel Clary tense beside me. A small part of me is happy that someone was angered by this, that someone disagrees with this. It makes me feel a bit lighter to know that someone thinks I am capable of being something important, even if no one in my family did.

"That's why I got angry when you said your mom said 'things' to you. I just - that's one thing I _can't handle_." When Clary told me about that, it awakened something inside of me. Not my own hatred, but protectiveness. I've never had anyone to protect someone from things like that before, and I just felt the way I wish someone felt for me. "Apparently, my mom couldn't handle it either. She killed herself a few months later." I say the last part as indifferently as I can. I'm usually good at keeping emotions at bay, but with Clary it doesn't matter. She can see right through it. I don't go into details about what happened, and I think Clary can understand that. The one person that could have saved me committed one cowardly act and left me. Forever. And worse, she scarred me for the rest of my life. I can still see her, clear as day, floating in the pink bath water. I can still remember the dark red, narrow cuts across her wrists, still seeping blood. "My dad just ignored me after that. Once, I asked him to put me up for adoption. The next day, he took me to a home for kids. He didn't even say goodbye. I didn't ask him to do it because I wanted him to, I asked him because he was so distant. I just wanted to say something - _anything_ - that made him understand what that was doing to me, that made him understand how _desperate _I was. I spent a few months in foster care before the Lightwoods found me. I haven't seen my dad since then. It's been ten years." I glance down at Clary before returning my gaze to the ceiling. "You don't know how much writing and talking to you helped me through it. Even though I didn't tell you what was going on, just hearing your voice made me feel better." I stop and look down at Clary. Her eyes are bright, but her face is stony with anger. I nudge her to make her look up at me, and when she does, I smile. "I guess it wasn't such a bad thing; I found _you._" I kiss the top of her head."I'd say that pro outweighs all the cons of my situation."

Obviously, she doesn't listen, and she isn't calmed by my words at all. Suddenly, she lifts her face to mine and presses our lips together softly. I feel like she is doing this more for my benefit than hers, but I don't care. The memories and images slip away all the same. I raise my hands to her cheeks and cradle them, running my thumbs over the soft skin over her cheekbone. It's funny; most girls think all guys notice are their breasts or asses - and that's all I _used _to notice, before Clary - but I find myself appreciating these little things more than the 'assets' typical sex-crazed teenage boys gape at. I love the feel of her skin on mine, even if it's just an innocent, coincidental brush of fingers. I love when she sets her jaw when trying to look mad, though her eyes give her away. That's another thing I love: _her eyes._ And her wild, untamed curls. She's not generic, no. But I'm not sure any sensible person could look at her and say she was anything less than beautiful.

I feel the heat radiating off of her become less present, as does the feeling of her lips on mine, and I slowly open my eyes. She rests her forehead on mine and gives me a lingering peck, almost like she's apologizing. For what, I don't know.

"I hate him," Clary whispers.

It takes me awhile to remember what she's talking about. Though I have a different outlook than a typical sex-crazed teenage boy, it doesn't mean I remain unaffected by anything remotely…_physical_. My train of thought was completely derailed. "That makes two of us," I manage to respond. I feel like I should say more, but I don't know how. "Thank you," I finally say.

She pulls back slightly and grins. "For the kiss?"

I laugh quietly and smile back. "Yes, for that. Though I'm sure you enjoyed it just as much as I did, probably even more. But thank you…for caring about me."

She smiles softly at me, her eyes gentle and vibrant at the same time, and closes her eyes, pressing her face into my chest. "Always."

_Always._

I liked the sound of that.

**Eh…any good? Honestly, I'm not sure. I was originally going to make this two separate chapters, but then each one would be a little over 1,500 words. I'm trying to write longer chapters, but maybe I'm utterly failing at it. *shrugs* **

**I would have posted this sooner, but I've been kind of doing a lot of stuff lately. Today was my first day off for the past week, but I'm not complaining. The highlight was when I got to go to Summerfest (which, if you didn't know, is the largest music festival in the world and is held in Milwaukee, WI) on Thursday and I got to go see Fun.! It was fan-freaking-tabulous. They are SO good live! And Nate Ruess ran through the aisle, so I reached my hand out and touched his chest and stomach! The fact that I remember what body parts I touched is kind of sad…but who cares? I know I don't.**

**On that note…review? Please? For Nate Ruess?**


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm so sorry about the lack of an update! Halfway through this chapter, my Microsoft Word thing just shut down, and I haven't been able to open the application since. I had to use the other program that came on my laptop (WordPad ) which is a million times worse, and it said I couldn't save the work I did on this when I finally finished it without making "formatting modifications". I didn't realize it would delete the entire first half... So that's it. I finally have a reason other than being lazy, and I worked like heck to post this today. Enjoy!**

I never would have thought that this amazing, strong man in front of me could be so broken, so scarred. At least that's what _he _thinks he is. To me, he will never be broken; he will never be weak. Jace is strong. He is my constant, my anchor. The one thing that makes me feel safe and protected. His beauty reaches further than the surface. These things are too rare and too amazing to be taken for granted.

And that's exactly what happened.

His own father – his own blood – took him for granted. He took all those wonderful things that make up Jace and spit on them. That's what I would like to do to his father right now; spit on him. In an amateur, childish sort of way, I want to rub Jace in his face and scream that he didn't ruin him. I want to tell him that Jace is ten times the man he is, no thanks to what he did to him during his childhood.

But I can't.

While my body is made of fire, the flames within me rising and engulfing me whole, just like the fury coursing through my body, Jace's is still and calm. He doesn't want revenge; he doesn't want to be angry. He just wants to live his life without these shadows of the past creeping up on him when he's finally happy. I can't feel that resignation towards his father; I'm too selfish.

I'm too selfish to think about what Jace has gone through while I'm busy sulking over my own problems. This thought is a segway to Jocelyn… I have to bite my lip to keep a huff of frustration from breaching them. Of _course_ I can't spend more than ten minutes thinking about someone else's problems. After Jace has bared himself to me, I still can't focus on what happened to him. But I can't help but worry about her. She almost _cried_ tonight; she never cries. Ever. I am actually worried for her, and that says a lot. I'm usually indifferent towards her stoned or drunken endeavors, but I think this time she might take it too far. Oddly enough, I want her to be all right. It doesn't matter what she's done to me in the past; she's still my mother. She's still my blood, and I would never genuinely wish badly upon her, even if I sometimes think dark thoughts. Or more often than sometimes.

"Clary." Jace's voice removes me from my reverie. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. I kinda zoned out for a second." I rest my chin on his chest and see him smiling down at me.

He laughs softly and taps my nose. "I could tell. Your nose gets all scrunched up when you're deep in thought. So… what were you thinking about?"

I don't want to say what I _actually _was thinking about, but I go with something related to it. "How unfair it is."

He sighs tiredly and pulls me closer to him, his face burrowing in my hair. "What is?"

"All of it. Our lives, our past, our present. It's just unfair."

He tightens his hold on me. His arms are now like vices around my body, but it's a comfortable restraint. "Life is unfair. We just have to roll with the punches."

I trail my finger from the nape of his neck to his collarbone, resulting in a small shiver from him. "When did you become philosophical?"

"I have many talents, love. You just haven't uncovered them all yet."

Even though I know he doesn't mean _that, _my cheeks warm when I think of the other 'talents' I have yet to see. When the blush fades, I remind myself, again, that I should check on Jocelyn. I sigh and look up at Jace. "You're going to hate me."

His eyebrows draw together suspiciously. "Possibly… What is it?"

"I have to go." I nuzzle my head in his chest and tighten my grip around his waist. "But I don't want to."

He doesn't miss a beat. "Your mom?" he asks.

I nod into his shirt and groan. "I feel like I'm her babysitter."

I feel a rumbling beneath me as Jace laughs. "In a way… you kind of are. But if you must go, go."

I tilt my head up and narrow my eyes playfully. "So you would rather have me go then stay here and kiss you?"

His eyes darken slightly as he says, "Oh, that's not what I'm saying at all." He rolls us over so he is hovering over me, his forearms on either side of my head. "If I had my way," he whispers, his breath fanning my cheek, "you would be with me every second of every day. You would never leave me and go somewhere you don't want to be. If I had my way, you would stay in this bed with me." He leans down, fusing my lips with his. It isn't fast or sloppy, rather slow and passionate. His hand strokes my cheek lightly before he pulls away and rests his forehead on mine. "But I know you need to make sure she is alright, so I guess I won't be getting my way." He leans down once more and gives me one last soft kiss on the lips.

I sigh, knowing he is right. Jace moves off of me, and I sit up. I swing my legs off the side of the bed, letting my feet hit the soft carpet. Slipping on my shoes, I hear Jace getting off the bed and stepping towards me. I close my eyes and feel his arms wrapping around me, pulling me against his chest. I turn around in his embrace and loop my own arms around his neck. "Thank you," I mumble into his neck. "For everything."

I know he knows what I mean. His arms tighten, and he whispers back, "Thank _you_."

-..~..-

I walk down the stairs after I _finally _convinced Jace to let me do this alone. I can still hear faint voices and glasses clinking through the closed doors. It must be late, but not too late that people are starting to leave. And I'm glad for it. I don't necessarily want to see anyone right now. Not just because I look awful, but because I feel awful. Jace helped relieve that hollow feeling somewhat, but not completely.

As soon as my feet hit the landing, I hear a door open. Automatically, I tilt my head down to avoid eye contact - or any contact at all, really - and keep walking hastily towards the front door. I realize my efforts were futile when I feel eyes on me.

"Clary," the voice breathes. The tone holds a hint of…relief?

I freeze. Slowly, I rotate around to see _him_: My father. His dark eyes are looking into mine, looking sad and downcast. For a second, I feel bad about what happened. Then I realize that it's his fault, not mine. He doesn't deserve anyone to feel sorry for him.

Just as slowly as before, I turn back around and continue my way towards the door.

"Clary, please-"

"Please _what?_" I ask furiously, spinning around to face him. I lift my arms and hold my hands out, palms up. "What can you possibly want me to do?"

"Just let me explain!" he replies. I notice how he is wringing his hands together, how wide his eyes are. He's desperate.

"Explain what? Explain how you _left _me? There isn't anything you need to explain. I get it."

"That isn't-"

"It isn't your job to take care of me. Just leave me alone, Valentine."

He flinches. "I'm not sure I can do that. Not now."

"Try, please. Just try." I don't wait for his answer as I turn and push the door open.

-..~..-

As I walk through the front door of the apartment building, I catch a glimpse of yellow light coming from Luke's office. I can imagine him cooped up, swaying back and forth in his office chair, reading an issue of _Rolling Stone._ I doubt he will even notice me, as he gets in certain state when he's buzzing with caffeine that the coffee he dumps down his throat every night gives him.

I breeze past the office and, like I predicted, I don't get a greeting from Luke. I barely feel the burning in my legs as I sprint up the stairs, two at a time. When I reach the flimsy, light green door, I don't hesitate before opening it. I take one step before stopping as I notice my mother sitting on a man's lap. Quietly, I take a small step back, but his eyes slide to mine before I can get out of his sight. Jocelyn follows his gaze, and she smiles lazily when she sees me.

"Clarissa…" she slurs. "It's nice of you to join us." She giggles hysterically, and I realize she must have done something harder than weed. On the table, I see two bottles of vodka, one empty and the other close to it. Great. She's drunk, too.

"Yeah," the man agrees, his voice husky but more alert than Jocelyn's. "It's real nice of you to join us."

He smirks slowly, his lips curling up slightly, revealing yellowed teeth. Pockmarks cover his face, creating an uneven landscape of skin. Light brown hair – darker at the base because of grease – is sticking out at odd angles – a result of Jocelyn's playing. His pale hazel eyes are glassy, and the whites of his eyes aren't even white – more like an off-white color, or cream.

"Jocelyn?" I ask. My voice sounds timid and small.

She doesn't answer. She just keeps playing with the man's hair, obviously high to a state of deliriousness. The man seems interested, however, and the predatory glint in his eye causes me to tense. He easily pushes Jocelyn off of his lap and stumbles towards me.

"My, my, who do we have here?" The corners of his mouth turn up into a Cheshire cat-like grin. I can feel his eyes trailing up and down my body, which is still. I resent the fact I'm still wearing my dress. "Ain't you a pretty little thing."

I don't respond. Slowly, trying not to alert him, I reach my hand back and blindly grope for the doorknob. The back of my hand brushes something cool and metallic, but before I can twist the knob, the man's hand shoots out and clenches mine, stopping me from escaping.

"Now, you don't wanna do that. We can have some fun. See, I thought this one here," he gestures back to Jocelyn, who is still sitting – or rather laying – on the couch, "was nice. But you…" His free hand traces my side, and I shudder in disgust. He takes that as a good sign, and he touches me more forcefully. His fingers splay across my stomach, my hips. He moves them over my body, and everywhere he touches feels like it's been burned. His hand almost reaches my breasts when I come to my senses.

"Get away from me!" I shove his chest as hard as I can, but he grabs my wrist and pins it above me. He presses his body against mine, and there is no space between us now. "Get off of me!"

"Stop that," he hisses in my ear. I can feel the stubble on his cheek scraping my jaw. His left hand trails down my back roughly and almost reaches my bottom, and I jerk away and try to shove him again, but he catches both my wrists in one hand and pins them against the wall above me. My heart pounds frantically in my chest; a lump rises in my throat. Both symptoms validate the panic I'm trying to overcome. His free hand traces my cheek, my neck, and makes its way to my breasts, and this time, I'm not able to stop it. I shrink back into the wall behind me, cringing in revulsion. Another man's forced touch is enough alone to make me feel disgusting. But a rough, drunken touch somehow makes me feel like less than I am. It makes me feel cheap.

"Get away from me!" I scream, but my voice cracks a little at the end. I wriggle in his grasp and create a little space between us, but it's enough. I knee him in the groin and his grip loosens on my wrists. I take this opportunity to yank them free and slide out from in front of him. Just as I start to run towards my room, his hand shoots out and grabs my elbow. He yanks me back and I see him raise his hand in the air. Everything is a blur before I hear a sharp crack. Suddenly, my knees give out and I sink to the floor. For a second I wonder what the noise was before I feel pain spark on my cheekbone. I raise my hand to my cheek, cupping the throbbing area. A dull ache pulses where his knuckles made contact with the bone.

"Jesus," he grumbles, clutching his wrist and flexing and relaxing his fingers. "You're a feisty one, aren't ya?"

He makes a move towards me, but Jocelyn suddenly appears behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso. "Forget about her," she purrs. My eyes dart to hers. Is she trying to protect me? No. All I see when I look is a vacancy, distance. It's enough to know the smile she is wearing is drug-induced. But she still doesn't look completely at ease. I've noticed that even when you are in the most elated state, the hurt and pain still can't be washed away. It can be muted, numbed even, but never erased.

He looks over his shoulder at her and sighs loudly. "I guess so."

She smiles dazedly at him. "Come with me," she says slowly.

She takes his hand and leads him to her room and I am left lying on the ground, cradling my cheek. I feel like bugs are crawling over my skin, and goosebumps have risen wherever he touched me.

I push up on my elbows and look towards Jocelyn's door, making sure it's closed fully. Too quickly, I stand up and instantly feel dizzy. I stumble over to the couch and lean on the arm. My hand is still covering my cheek, and I realize it's shaking. This is the first time I've really been _scared_ when any man hit me. Actually, I'm not scared because of that. It's the way his hands moved over my body, the carelessness, the smell of alcohol on his breath. The way he wasn't Jace. The way I didn't permit him to do it.

Quickly and quietly, I shuffle to my room and close the door, locking it before I turn away. I slip out of my dress and into baggy sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. I don't want to look beautiful. I want to look disgusting, just like how I feel. I can still feel his calloused hands' tight grip on me as they moved over my figure. I can still feel his hot, rancid breath on my face as he spoke to me. Even though I didn't let him touch certain _places_, he came close. Too close.

My eyes start burning and my throat feels sore from trying to suppress the cries my body wants to release. I shut my eyes tightly and wait for the burning to dissolve. I will not let myself cry over this.

I wrap my arms around my stomach and walk over to the window. I unlock the latch and slide the pane up and am met by a slightly chilled gust of air. Mechanically, I raise my leg and swing it out onto the fire escape. I do the same with the other leg and shut the window.

Even though the platform I am on is tiny, I feel freer out here than I ever have in that apartment. I haven't been out here in such a long time. I haven't had a _reason _to. I sit down on the cold metal and draw my knees close to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. With a sigh, I lean my head back and close my eyes, breathing in the crisp night air.

Not everything is able to be seen from here, but everything is heard. I hear the taxis start and stop at the destinations, and I hear drunks laughing loudly as they stumble home. Oddly enough, these noises comfort me. It's nice to know that even when everything seems screwed up, things are normal. Not everything, but some things. Out here I can submerse myself in that world. I can pretend I am the college girl giggling when her boyfriend tells her a joke as he walks her home. Her _normal _home.

I can pretend I have a caring father and a loving mother, and I can pretend rumors and insults about me don't float around at school. I can pretend my mother doesn't do drugs, and she doesn't let random men grope and hit me.

I know I can only let myself play into that charade for so long. I know that a pebble will be thrown in the fragile puddle I see my dream through, and the ripples will appear, signaling that my time being normal is over, and I need to face reality.

I reallydon't like reality.

**Drama, drama, drama. Good? Bad? **

**Also, WordPad doesn't have any sort of editing system, so if I had any spelling or grammatical errors, sorry!**

**Review for faster updates!**

**~ .on**


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello! I don't really have much to say here, so... I guess you can start reading. Oh, wait! Last chapter I forgot to respond to a.m567's question concerning if I have read Infernal Devices. The answer is...no. For some reason, my Nook isn't letting me download books anymore, and I haven't been able to go to a bookstore for a while now. But believe me when I say I am DYING to read it. Not quite literally, but almost. Good question, a.m567. Oh, and thank you for reviewing kind of consistently!**

**Okay, now you can read. **

My eyes slowly peel open as I feel something tickle my nose. Curly locks of my hair are fanned out over my face, blowing against my nose as the breeze disrupts them.

Breeze?

I lift my head, and my neck immediately responds with a deep, aching soreness. My eyes sweep from side to side, surveying my surroundings. I quickly realize I am outside. This comes as no surprise; I have been in almost this exact situation before.

My body feels stuck, like my limbs have been coated in rust and are held in their current positions. Slowly, I lift my arms and stretch, creaking and cracking noises ringing in my ears. I turn over and push myself into a crouching position. Carefully, I straighten my knees and hear them pop before arching my back and rolling my shoulders.

I don't have to try to remember what happened last night; the memories come flooding back, along with the dull pain on my cheek. Almost impulsively, I shut my eyes and force the scenes from my mind. For now, I need to focus on other things.

Due to the jelly-like feeling in my muscles, it takes a while to open the window, but I do it. When I climb into my bedroom, I pause to wait for any noises. I don't want to give the man a notion that I am in my room – or anywhere near him, really. I don't hear any, so I robotically move towards my dresser and pull out clothes: skinny jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a hooded jacket. Nothing revealing.

I quietly slip out of my bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall. What I see makes me regret turning on the light. A dark gray and purple bruise is covering my left cheekbone, but at least not too much swelling accompanies it. It looks as if someone took a brush and lightly swept it there. Despite that, it still looks horrible and painful. And it is. The muted pain is embedded deep in the bone, giving me a bad feeling it will be there for a while.

Seeing enough of myself, I open the door silently and exit the bathroom, walking a few steps to the door before seeing a slumped form on the couch. As I step closer, I see the man's neck bent backwards onto the arm of the couch, his lips curled downward even in his slumber. Even though he is asleep, I feel a slight chill run through my bones before forcing it away. I'm surprised he isn't either gone or in Jocelyn's room. Either way, I'm happy he's passed out.

I hear a knock on the door, pausing my thoughts, and sigh. It's probably Luke, and it's not like he's never seen me like this before. I silently walk to the door, not stopping to look at the passed out piece of garbage lying on the couch.

I unlock the door and pull it open. It's not Luke. My eyes widen when I find myself staring into golden ones that are quickly morphing into pure fury as they assess my face.

I instinctively take a cautious step back. "What are you doing here?" I ask quietly.

He swallows hard and tears his eyes away from the bruise to look into mine. "I came to see if you were all right. I guess I got my answer."

His eyes look over my shoulder, and I realize a second too late what he is looking at – the man. The last thing I need is Jace killing a man in my apartment.

"Jace, please-" I shift my body so I am right in the doorway, blocking any sort of entrance he might have had before. "Just – hear me out, okay? Please, don't do anything."

"Like hell I won't." His hand grips my bicep and attempts to move me away. The touch was anything but rough or painful, but I involuntarily flinch and stumble back slightly, and he must notice. A sad and remorseful look replaces the murderous one he had shown just seconds before.

"Please, Jace," I say. "Let's just…go somewhere and talk."

His jaw tightens again, and he looks over to the man again. I can hear the restrained anger in his voice when he says, "Fine."

-..~..-

The back room of Mr. Harrison's store has always been _our_ place in a sense. I remember the countless number of nights I spent curled up in the corner, clutching the phone like a lifeline as I laughed at another conceited statement Jace made. In a way, those days were easier. It was a relief to be able to completely disconnect myself from my reality and submerge myself in our own world. It was reassuring to know that Jace didn't have the faintest idea what was going on in my home life, as sick as it sounds. But he does now, and the topic floating around us has made the room seem more dismal than what I'm used to. I used to come here for solace, but obviously I'm not finding that today.

"What happened?"

Jace's voice makes me raise my head, but I still have to peer upwards to see him; I am sitting on a crate while Jace is leaning against the doorway, his eyes cutting into mine. I shrug. "A lot of things have happened in my life-"

"What happened _last night?" _The livid undertone to his voice suggests he isn't in the mood for humor. I want to tell him he's being hypocritical. He's used humor and sarcasm as a cover for his entire life, but when _I_ do it, it's not okay? But I don't tell him that. Somehow, I don't think that would mollify him.

I sigh and avert my eyes before telling him everything. Everything about Luke not seeing me come in, the man getting annoyed and hitting me, me sleeping out of the fire escape – one thing I _don't_ tell him is what else the man did. It's wrong and selfish of me to keep this from him, but I can't help it. We are partners, and we should trust each other, but this is something I'm not too willing to share with him. He remains silent the entire time I'm speaking, and I don't look at him. I get the feeling his expression would scare me more than words would. However, I do have a question for _him._

"Why did you get all upset this time something happened?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" His words are stiff and cold; obviously he is still experiencing the vestiges of his rage.

I set my hands in my lap and play with my fingers, just for something to do. "I mean…" I pause, not sure what words I should use to avoid making him upset. "Last time something happened to me – you know, the cut – you didn't get too bothered." I can see his posture get defensive out of my periphery, and I rush to correct myself. "Well, I mean, you _did _get bothered, but not to the extent of how you are now." I finally stop my stammering and look up to see him staring back at me. "What made this time different?"

Now it is him who looks away. His defensive stance has relaxed a bit, giving him a more casual look. Still, he looks on edge. After a moment, he responds in a quiet voice, "You flinched."

I blink. "What?"

"When I tried to move you out of the way. You flinched. You were afraid of me. Of me. _That's_ what made this time different." There is still anger in his voice, but it is laced with pain. It makes my heart ache when I realize I created that pain.

"I wasn't afraid of you. I would never be afraid of you." Slowly, I stand up and walk over to him; he still isn't looking at me.

I reach out to him and grasp his hands. His eyes slide up to mine, the hard discs of gold softened. Wordlessly, I step closer to him and set his hands on my waist. I need to prove to him that he can touch me, that I _want_ him to touch me. I feel the rage empty out of him with that one touch. I lift my hands to his face and bring his forehead down to mine, and I can feel his eyelashes against my cheek as they flutter closed, feel his nose slide against mine, feel our breath mingling.

"I would _never_ be afraid of you," I repeat.

He tugs me closer to him and tilts his chin, angling our lips closer together, but they're still not touching. Slowly, gently, he presses his lips to mine. He is telling me all he can't say in this kiss. He is thanking me, promising me he will never hurt me, making sure I know he loves me. I skim my fingertips along his cheekbone and into his curls, pulling him closer and moving my lips more fervently against his. I need him to know all the things that he's trying to tell me, too. I need him to know that I will never hurt him, that I love him. He seems to understand my need to be closer to him as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, though it seems like there is no closer.

I feel a hand travel from the small of my back up my spine, fingertips brushing the nape of my neck, and finally fisting in my hair. Our movements suddenly become quick, my hands moving down to his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt; his forearm is pressed against the expanse of my lower back, keeping me close and touching him.

"Clary!" Mr. Harrison's voice echoes through the shop.

We spring apart, me significantly less graceful than Jace. My spine slams into the doorway loudly, alerting Mr. Harrison where we are. I hear his footsteps shuffle down the stairs and over to us. He steps out of the threshold that connects his store to the staircase leading to the small apartment above. His eyes stay on the bruise on my cheek for a few seconds before flicking up to meet mine. I don't expect him to say anything about it, and he doesn't. He's the type of man that likes to ignore things he doesn't like. Maybe the constant reminders of bad things happening is what makes him fidgety all the time.

"Close up at six, okay?" he continues after glancing warily at Jace.

"Got it."

He stands awkwardly for a few seconds before departing with a jerky nod. I smile a little and look up at Jace, who has a trace of amusement on his face.

"He's interesting, isn't he?" I ask.

He snorts. Usually a snort would be an ungraceful sound, but, like everything else he does, Jace makes it work. "I'm not sure _interesting_ would be the word, but sure, he's interesting," he says. He looks down at me, a somber expression replacing the one of humor. "Don't fight me on what I'm going to say, okay? I already know you will, but just listen to me."

"Jace, whatever you're-"

"No," he says, cutting off my words. "Listen to me." He reaches out, taking my hands in his. They warm my cold fingers. "I want you to stay at my house."

Exasperation floods through me. He thinks I can't handle this, and I've handled everything well enough for the years he wasn't here. "I'm fine-"

"You always say that, but it doesn't stop me from worrying. Knowing that you're living in a place where _that," _he says, gently brushing his fingertips across my bruised cheekbone, "happens... I can't stand it. Not when I can do something about it."

"I don't need a bodyguard, Jace. And what happened rarely happens. It's not like I go home every night and get knocked around a-" I abruptly cut off my sentence, swallowing the _and felt up_. I'm not sure that would get my point across. "It doesn't happen that often, I swear."

"But it still happens. Please," he says. I don't think I've ever heard Jace sound desperate. It just doesn't happen. But he almost sounds desperate now, a pleading tone replacing the normally cool and collected one he uses. "Please, just for a little while at least."

There's no point in arguing with him; he always seems to win anyway. And it's not like he's forcing me to stay there. I could leave anytime I wanted. I glance up and see Jace looking at me intently, waiting for me to make my decision. "Fine," I mutter. "This isn't permanent though. Just for a few days."

He doesn't look satisfied, but he nods. "Okay. Hey, don't look so upset about it. You'll be _living _with me."

I scoff. "Who says I'll be living with you? Who knows, I might just stay with Izzy the whole time."

He raises an eyebrow at me. "You're coming to stay at the same house I live in, and you're going to stay with _Izzy? _I find that extremely improbable."

"And I find you _extremely_ arrogant."

He inhales sharply and clenches his fist over his heart. "That really hurts," he says sadly. "That hurts right here."

I shake my head and start to walk away from him, towards the counter. "I'm willing to bet your ego is big enough to handle it."

I hear him laugh but he doesn't respond. Just as I step behind the counter, arms snake around my waist and pull me against a body. "One more thing," Jace whispers in my ear.

I huff, part of me comfortable but a larger part of me irritated that he's using his power over me to keep me from working. "What? Jace, I really have to–"

"I love you," he says softly.

I try to stop it from happening, but I can already feel myself sinking further into his embrace. Three little words making me all but a puddle at his feet. I feel him chuckle against my back at my reaction. _Way to ruin the mood. _I huff again and grip his wrists and extract myself from his arms. He catches my forearm and gently tugs me back towards him, very tentative with his movements.

"Do you have anything you want to say to me?" he asks. He lifts his hand to my chin and tilts it up so I am looking at him.

"Not at the moment, no."

"Hmm. How about, 'I love you'? That would work quite nicely." With every word he says, he leans down, inching his face towards mine. When he's done talking, his nose is brushing against mine. I feel about ready to melt into him again, but I know I can't. That would give him _way_ too much satisfaction.

"Fine," I say in a steady voice. "I love you. Happy?"

I pull back and walk behind the counter, sitting on the stool stationed behind the cash register.

"If that wasn't the most genuine declaration of love I've ever heard," I hear Jace say sarcastically.

I spin around on the seat to look at him. I lean my elbow and the counter and rest my cheek on my fist. "How many genuine declarations of love have you heard?"

"Noah and Allie get me teary-eyed every time." He strides over to me and hoists himself up onto the counter, sitting on it while facing me. His fingers absently thread through a lock of my hair while he speaks. "If I find out _that _isn't genuine, nothing in my life will make sense anymore."

"That would be a pretty catastrophic revelation," I agree.

"But," he says, hopping off his perch, "I'd like to think we're better than them. And I'm _much_ sexier than Noah."

I shrug. "I don't know," I say, opening the register and unwrapping rolls of quarters. "Ryan Gosling is very sexy. Especially with his shirt off."

I feel him behind me, his chest pressed against my back, his biceps against my shoulders as he leans forward and rests his hands on the edge of the counter, creating a very effective cage around me. "Trying to get me shirtless, I see?"

I spin around and almost gasp at how close he is. His breath fans my face as he breathes; heat radiates off of him, creating a comfortable warmth surrounding us.

"Just so I can confirm my theories." My eyes flick down to his lips almost subconsciously as I speak. "Basic comparative experiments."

He grins. "This is so you can tell whose level of sexiness is higher? You know, scientifically?"

I nod. I can't speak, not with him so close.

"I think we both know who would come out on top," he says.

I gather my wits and speak. "Most girls say arrogance makes a man _less_ sexy. Humility is an attractive trait."

He just smirks and says, "I know you love it."

I'm about to shake my head, but he _finally _leans forward and presses his lips to mine. The light brush is just a tease, and the chuckle Jace lets out signals he enjoys this much more than I do. I pull back and frown at him.

"You're evil," I say.

"I know a way I can make it up to you," he says, pressing light kisses along my jawline.

My eyelids flutter shut. "How abnormally cliché of you. But I'll accept your offer."

I don't know what I expected him to do. Laugh, maybe, or start 'making it up to me.' I definitely didn't expect him to stiffen and pull away. I look at him, but his eyes are hard and fixed on something behind me. I look over my shoulder to see someone standing just inside the doorway. I recognize who it is and immediately feel nerves bubbling in my stomach. His voice cuts through the sudden tension that was building in the room.

"If you don't mind, Lightwood, I'd like a moment with my sister."

**Good? Bad? Absolutely horrible? Review and let me know... Also, I didn't really have time to edit this, so if there are any mistakes, my bad! And another thing, I'm going to camp tomorrow morning, so I thought I should get this up to give you something until I come back, which is in about a week. Until then, ciao!**

**~sdr. lives. on**


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